Pennine Way Day5- Pondon to Gargrave 14.5 miles

  This day is an extremely dull one and there is very little to note about it. I only took around a dozen photographs and filed less than three. You start off by following the reservoir round and take the road up back out the valley. The road is broad and clear and the only annoyance is the passive aggression shown by the farmers here and there.

   At one point you pass a strange series of cabins, very stoutly built but in the middle of nowhere. The guide is equally unsure suggesting the possibility that they were hunting cabins. Its another awkward passage through a village and back up through an endless maze of farm fields.
  I paused at the Hare and Hound Inn for lunch, soup and onion rings before climbing up for the last 8 miles, slightly annoyed that I'd only managed to cover six and a half. The food was great though and rejuvenated me. I also talked briefly to an elderly gentleman on a walking stick who's walked it fifty or so years ago. He still had pride in his voice has he described it and reiterated what a wonderful experience it was.
  Thornton-in-Craven was a little confusing and once again my pace went down to a mile an hour as I tried to find my way around. After my previous disasters at navigation I doubled checked everything, using the map to cross reference the guide book. On the way up another road I stopped at a house with a hose outside and asked to refill my water bladder. It wasn't that empty but since it was a warm day it made sense to be cautious.

  Not that long later, and a easy stroll up Leeds-Liverpool Canal through East Morton, I arrived in Gargrave. I'd originally planned to stay in East Morton but Gargrave was only a little further and the extra stretch gave me the option the next day to walk all the way to Horton-in-Riddlesdale instead of been stuck in Melham tomorrow night only 8.5 miles on. The stretch between Melham and Horton-in-Riddlesdale is 15 miles of hard and steep walking, if I added on the distance between Gargrave and Melham it equaled a 21 mile day. I'd been struggling with 15 and I was sick of it so I figured I'd get a hard day under may belt and gain confidence that I could do this walk.

Leeds-Liverpool Canal

  Gragrave seemed a very pretty town but I'd walked another eleven hour day and both my feet and my left heel were on fire. I stopped in a co-opperative store and bought an obscene amount of food. I decided on brae, cuotomali, and baguette for mains with peaches for desert. I also bought snack food for the next day or two. The campsite was flat and with washing facilities including a clothes ladle with I liked. I showered and ate my meal outside the laundry rooms as my electricals charged. I was a little worried about them been stolen on such a busy caravan site.
  I lovely couple on holiday were also at the site in their enormous tent and they kept offering me things like a chair or coffee. I thanked them but declined. A larger tent stood behind me housing a loud family with kids but with my Ipod on I fell easily asleep just before the rain came.

Penning Way Day4- Mankinhole to Stanbury 15 Miles

 The days official millage doesn't include the climb back up to Stoodley Pike which had been bothering me the night before. I woke early and collected my recharged phone from the bathrooms, packed my stuff and headed for the shortest but steepest route to the top. I was tempted to walk along the valley floor till it rejoined the Way but I found I couldn't miss such a key point of the Way and meet peoples eye when I claim to have completed it.
  It was a stiff and hard climb but once I committed to it it wasn't so bad and the view from the top was lovely. I also hadn't realised that the pike was hollow and easy to climb up. I dumped my bag on the ground and, slightly light headed from relief, climbed to the top. The actual Pennine Way, if you choose not to camp in Mankinholes, is pretty level stretching across the moors alongside the valley. You soon cross the Pennine Bridleway, one of a few times the two walks cross paths, and slopes down to Lower Rough Head Farm. The navigation is easy and the path is clearly boarded by a stone wall to the left. You finally wind down a more zigzag path to Mytholm, crossing a dingy canal and railway. The towns here look a little desolate and abandoned.

Descending from the Pike

Satisfying view of how far I'd traveled

From around Cinder Lane

  Here starts an incredibly frustrating and unsatisfying hour winding your way back up the other side of the valley through pockets of houses, stairs going alongside gardens and behind buildings. There's a interesting abandoned graveyard marked with a 'Wainwright Sign' which gave me a bit of a navigational problem but it was soon solved and I gained added confidence in my skills.

Abandoned Graveyard

  Winding up and away from the graveyard the houses finally grow a tad scarcer, Stoodley Pike still stood in the distance giving you a satisfying sense of the distance you've covered- if at the speed of a arthritic turtle. The progress is horribly slow. I think next time I do this walk I'll do as suggested and carry on past Mankinholes and onto Mytholm to camp in Badger Fields Farm- its closer to the path and would get this ugly section over and done with. You pass through farm gardens, wined between yards and over styles until you're completely turned around. Some paths are well kept but others are boxed in by walls and allowed to go wild and overgrown.

The beginning of a week long problem

  There is a lovely river between the many roads where a family was having a picnic and would have been a wonderful place for local families. Up another valley side and a very posh drive I reached Cinder Lane and diverted to Aladdin's Cave for supplies. Bought an orange juice, and orange (I sometimes eat healthy when walking) and my monthly female requirements before plastering the newly formed blisters on my heel. I should have stopped before it had become so big.


 Finally you break onto open moor land, five or so hours after I started. In that time I'd only covered five miles, maybe six with the climb back up from Mankinholes. That left me another ten miles to go which as my current pace was never going to happen. But as soon as the roads and houses were left behing and the landscape sweeps up around you my pace doubled and I began to enjoy the day. I was also very excited about passing the supposed location Emily Bronte had based Wuthering Heights. We'd studied Emily Bronte at high school and no other book had hit me quite so hard. I've read it nearly five times and have always wanted to see where it might have been set.

   There's a wonderful section where you drop into a ravine and crisscross the stream in these wooden bridges. It a very quaint set up and exactly as I'd have imagined Monet's garden. I'd hoped to pause around here and skip the half a kilometer to Packhorse Inn for lunch but time had gotten away from me. I was taking twice the suggested time of the guidebook and by the time I passed it had shut till dinner time.

Path down to Wuthering Heights

The ruin in the distance

    Following another dull series of reservoirs you finally reach Within Heights and my sought after ruin. The land is also very tame and easy here and the warm weather overcasts everything with a golden hue. Tourism is big along here, as is evident by the Japanese sign post indicating the direction to Haworth.

 From here your nearly there, a quick meander down a pebbled drive to yet another reservoir. You get a real impression of how much work goes into our water supply on this walk. Through Stanbury Moor and along the rim of the reservoir to Ponden Guest house took less than an hour. I'd been walking for nearly twelve hours and felt inadequate when I read in the guide that it should have been a mere eight or nine.

Ponden Reservoir

  Ponder Guest house campsite is not a campsite. Its another case of a B&B having a spare field, although in this case its a five minute walk and a stiff climb from the only toilet.

Ponden Guest House Campsite

   While very picturesque the river had it's friendly hoard of midges as well as one or two too many campers. One lady in particular was extremely annoying, loud music and a lived-in-look to her tent as if she'd been there for several weeks. Later two more tents were set up by a friendly looking bunch of teenagers. I'm afraid I showered, cooked and slept without saying a word to any.

Pennine Way Day3- Standedge to Mankinhole 11 Miles

   The rain seemed to have left us for a while and even if everything remained damp and wet it was much better than I'd thought. I forced the damp clothes back on and began before everyone else. Again I was hoping to come across somewhere I could buy some food since my breakfast of pringgles, bought the night before in the pub. wasn't quite as nutritional as I'd hoped.
  The walk today was easy compared to the other ones. Back at the car park you cross the road and within five minutes your enjoying fantastic views from Millstone Edge. I stopped within ten minutes and finished off my pringgles then trudge on-wards feeling slightly more upbeat about it all.  It's today that you'll get you're fill of reservoirs- you'll pass at least five before reaching camp. There was no sense of seclusion and wilderness at this stage although by any normal standards it remains very pretty.

View from Millstone Edge

  A hill runner swept past me as this point and I was very impressed, thin gentleman quite young and quite happy to puff his way over the rough terrain. I'd have collapsed in less than five minutes for sure. Looking through the guide book I realised I must have missed the memorial to Ammon Wringley saying- '...so over the hills I'll take my way and mate with the wild and free will mu dust is flung to the winds in my hill country.' Its a lovely quote and suggests the sweeping feel of the moors themselves.
  Up over White Hill Summit I crossed my first road. I then reached my desired chip van and I paused to buy myself a bacon bun and a slice or jam cake. The sandwich was horrible but hit the right spot and I enjoyed a quick break on a stone. Then a quick climb and its over the M62 where I had a very enjoyable fifteen minutes trying to work out how to get the road in focus and moving cars blurred with my brand new Cannon 1100 camera.

M62

  Around Blackstone Edge I got a bit bewildered and lost as I wound around large boulders straight from Narnia and the Giants realm. I examined my map thoroughly and using my initiative took a route away from the Pennine Way choosing a more distinct path and cutting out the moor. You follow the stone path down and then walk along an old ditch to the side of an ancient pack-horse road- possibly Roman. Its nice and flat, and easy to follow. I stopped and lying on the slope enjoyed the sun for a few minutes, relaxed and beginning to loose the ever present sense of times and schedules that runs my life at home. At the next road, the A58, I paused at the White House Inn to pee- something I'd wanted to do for quite some time. I enjoyed two glasses of coke, recharged my phone a little and checked in at home. Its a lovely pub, full of locals and pensioners having lunch.
   Time was wearing on now and I knew I'd squandered my early start. The next section is dull but extremely flat. It curls on the inside of the Blackstone Edge Reservoir before going along the Light Hazzles and Warland Reservoirs. Your legs wont feel it at all and you can tune out. Its then a short stretch across the moors and left. I followed it precisely but ten minutes later I doubted myself and returned back to the T-junction.

My first view of Stoodley Pike

  After re-walking the same section, disturbing the same sheep, I spotted Stoodley Pike in the distance. My legs were feeling a little better but my feet were in serious pain again, the souls were on fire. After the memorial seat I turned left and walked down the steep slope to Mankinholes. I past the river and mill and spent the next hour walking backwards and forwards looking for the campsite a local eventually told me had shut down a few years ago. After three lots of direction I finally found Cross Farm and set my pitch in an over grown lopsided campsite. The Farm Cross is a B&B with an enchanting garden but its not a campsite, the ground is far too sloped and makes for a horrible pitch.

My lopsided but quiet campsite

  I had enough cash to pay for the campsite but little else. Very few campsites take credit cards so I decided to walk the thirty minutes down to Mankinholes town and buy some snacks. I swapped into my flip-flops which helped my feet a lot. Within half an hour they seem to recover from the shoes and it felt like I was doing nothing more than walking home after a long day. This feeling soon slipped away when it took me over forty minutes to get into town, making more and more nervous about missing my bus back up to the top. I didn't want another hour of walking with my shopping back up the hill.
  I finally reached the shop but the cash machine was broken making the entire trip a waste. I'd not eaten for a long while now and low on sugar I might have been blunter than I'd meant to be with the lady who told me that there was a petrol station another ten minutes down the road. I rushed in and grabbed the first high sugar snack I spotted, got back to the bus station and saw on the electronic sign that there was another ten minutes before it arrived. I should have stayed and waited but I realized I'd forgotten to get noodles for dinner or milk. By the time I got back again two or three minutes later the bus had gone.

Stoodley Pike from the Cross Farm Camp

   I got back to the campsite at dusk absolutely exhausted but I was rewarded for my efforts by a stunning sunset. I had a shower and collapsed back in the tent having had chocolate bars for my dinner. My health-kick side of this walk is failing horribly and chocolate raisins for snacks tomorrow isn't going to help.

Pennine Way Day2- Crowden to Standedge

 

View climbing out of Crowden

  I woke early but the rain was too heavy to attempt packing up. I dozed until there seemed a break and packed up as quickly as possible. Overcast as it was as I made my way from the campsite it seemed to dry out a little and the path up and out of Crowden was steady and pretty. I passed the couple I'd seen the day before very early on and made my way alongside Crowden's Great Brook. The water was flowing with worrying force considering the amount of streams I'd be crossing throughout the day . The path contours the hillside precariously, sometimes a little under water and other times going straight through a quickly flowing stream. It made it very hard going, and at times scary.  At several points I needed to throw my bag across before leaping after it. The views however were fantastic, equal if not better than the day before.

The Crowden Great Brook looking back to Crowden in the distance

   The creeks got steadily harder to cross, at times forcing me to search for routes around to avoid been swept away. I was very conscious of my camera through out after my last creek crossing and camera disaster. Very soon my feet were soaked.
    In many ways the terrain here is considerably harder than yesterdays and certainly took a lot longer. I suspect on a dry day this is very different.

  It was with relief I finally, after the mother of all crossings (took nearly half an hour), took the path branching out towards Black Hill. The climb is steady enough and the path clear with slabs here and there to help you over the bog. At this point I was listening to Bill Bryson's 'A Walk in the Woods' but the earphones kept on pausing the ipod driving me absolutely crazy. I also realised that at some point I'd lost all my snacks and was steadily getting hungrier. I stopped myself from having lunch in the hope to stumbling across a pub or food van when I crossed the A635. The moors still held a lot of charm and I quite enjoyed the steady walk, although my backpack was still causing me grief as well as my map cord around my neck. I was so scared of getting lost though that I kept it instantly at hand to double-check my route. Even when I was clearly on the path I'd refer to it in the hope of learning out to read the contours of the land around me.

Path to Black Hill

  I'm afraid the next section to the A635 is tiresome and after the rain, which we'd had all the week before, quite horrible. There's a river crossing which the sign warns not to attempt after rain, it suggested an alternative route but I was too lazy and too worried about getting lost to take heed- a bit like in Australia I know but I am somewhat of a slow learner. This time, however, I got away with it. The path goes up and down a couple of times too often and the road deceptively far away. The couple later told me that they followed, ignoring the alternative route also having concluded that if I'd managed they would also.
Glancing back I spotted them in the distance and kept up my pace, determined that I'd not be overtaken. After the road crossing the path is very simple and goes along the road to a gravel drive along the Wessender Reservoir. Wessender Lodge, my hoped source for lunch, turned out to be a private home. So settling myself on the side of the path I cooked myself some couscous on my JetBoil stove. As soon as I'd finished cooking and turned off the stove the rain came. For some reason I'd decided I was nearly at my destination when I set off which is wrong, two thirds of the way maybe and definitely the hardest parts are completed but there is a way to go. The rain made it all that much harder, and my wet feet were in serious pain. This was not the peppy energetic first few days I'd imagined and I was getting a little worried the walk was going to beat me.

The view from just after Black Moss Reservoir

  Across the moor and a long a series of reservoirs which, if they hadn't lost their novelty yet, will seem quite tiresome  by the end of the trip. As you descend once more to the car park in front of the Brun Clough Reservoir  you cross onto the rather scary A62. Here is my first Pennine Way map on which I posed in a cheesy manner while pointing at my current position. I'm pointing to only a center-meter or so above the starting point, there's still a long way to go,

Looking down towards Standedge as the mists come down

  The days walk complete I now headed off the Pennine way and walked the kilometer of so to The Carriage House. I got there well before it's opening hour and sat outside a while hunching my shoulders to the rain. By this point I was well and truly soaked. The couple of elderly gentlemen who'd been behind me the last few miles caught up and we stood around talking awkwardly. They were hunched over horribly and their packs did not look very supportive whatsoever.
  A kind caravan man popped over and told us to set up and settle the bill later. I gratefully obeyed and blessing the heavens for the clearing of the rain set up the tent and sorted out my stuff. I limped inside and paid for my pitch but mainly to optain a shower token, nearly jumping with glee when they said I could also have a bath if I wished. I did wish. I adopted their boiler as a dry room and soaked myself until I could hear the gentlemen waiting for their turn outside.
  That night was very pleasant. Wondered inside and bought myself a lasagne, attempting to write up the days travel and failing. Instead I examined the next days route, an exercise I'd repeat every night after. It would only be another eleven mile day but if it was going to rain it would be another day of hell. I wanted a sunny few days to kick start the hike, instead I was looking at wet shoes and wet clothes with howling winds over the moors.
  The couple who'd been behind me came in and I introduced myself a little. They were taking a gap year and had given themselves a month to walk the Pennine Way but were finding it much harder than they reckoned- I could relate. The first few days, I can now say in retrospective, are very hard and do not ease you in. Again this might be different in hot dry weather but in the rain the crossings and the bogs are extremely draining. 
  I also met four boys, definitely nearer teenagers than my age, who were doing mountaineering training. One of their number had slipped and hurt his ankle so badly they'd had to get the helicopter in to get him out, by which point he had hypothermia. This gave me guilty comfort- even if I was finding it hard I was having an adventure with dangers just like Australia.

Pennine Way Day 1- Edale to Crowden 16 miles

Looking down from the top of Jacobs Ladder

Stone Church as you Walk in to Edale from the Station

 The only section of the Way I had a companion was the first day. Me and my mother caught the train to arrive in Edale by eleven and after a quick drink at Cooper's Cafe we began the stroll along the valley towards Jacobs ladder. The rolling hills are lovely and a good warm up among flocks of sheep before the stiff climb up Jacobs.       

View from Edale Rocks looking down at Jacobs Ladder

  Not having done half a much preparation as I'd planned the backpack was causing me a lot of problems, moreover I was attempting to keep up with mother who (unlike me) wasn't carrying twenty odd pounds on her back. I failed to keep a constant pase and by the time I reached half way up the accursed hill I'd begun to rethink the whole plan. Luckily I have a talent more essential to hiking than endurance, fitness and strength of character: I have the memory of a gold fish and within a minute of completing a painful and desperate climb I'll have fooled myself into thinking I'd competed it easily.
   Things leveled up after Kinder Low and when we began to walk along ridge I finally claimed sense of rhythm. The wind however grew in strength and the promised rain seemed to be sweeping in. My mother, not having snacked as she walked, needed lunch so I stopped to allow her to eat her sandwiches. A man paused alongside us and began a conversation. He turned out to be a volunteer park ranger. Sat together munching on nuts he treated us to a little history of the place and his job.
  As always when retracing the route the second time, the walk along the ridge seemed to take twice as long as I thought and it was a relief when we finally came to the end and the sharp decent called 'Jacob's Ladder: The Reckoning" to the snake path. It's at this point that I went wrong last time, walking straight forward instead of turning right a few hundred meters from the sign post at the acorn marker on Mill Hill.

Looking back from Snakes Path to Jaccop's Ladder: The Reckoning- cotton grass and slabs over the Moor

  The Snake Path is where you realise how much harder it would have been for walkers doing the Pennine Way thirty years ago. Massive slabs from mills and old factories mark a set route through boggy marshland which at times is a foot deep in rainwater. With no clear path and only a compass bearing it would have been a work of half a day to cross instead of a dull and effortless hour or two. It is easy to image it as Tolkin's marshes before Mordor and as the rain began to fall it looked bleaker and bleaker.
  We reached the A57 at around six and collapsed for ten or so minutes. The weather was too windy to remain for long without getting cold so getting to our feet we trudged onward. We were both already exhausted but one thing made all the difference, I lent mother my Mp3 player while I listened to my Ipod. We past another couple at the cross point, in the mid twenties, and also resting. The girl seemed to be carrying nearly as much as the guy which earned them my approval instantly.
   The ascent up Devil's Dyke to Bleaklow Head was considerably easier than I'd expected even though my feet and back were hurting at this point- in fact both me and mother had already rationed ourselves a painkiller which I think was helping things along considerably. Things weren't helped my the fog creeping in and the rain increasing. We both raised out hoods and went into our own little world- Mother's was listening to Dick Francis while my audio companion was the Bortemaius Trilogy.

Bleaklow Head

  The descent took longer than the ascent and the rain got worse. Around half-seven father phoned to check on our progress, I told me to wait half an hour before leaving to pick up mother. We stopped again along Clough Edge on the 'Pulpit'. It took another hour from there to get down to Torside Reservoir, cross to the other side and up to A628. A quick track up and back down to the Crowden campsite.
  Crowden campsite is the best on the entire hike. It has a massive drying room, good showers, a small shop and nice flat areas to pitch the tent- moreover the guy who runs it popped out of his camper without a grumble to check me in and sell me some soup. Mum was picked up and I was left to collapse and massage my aching feet. I went straight to the shower and changed into wonderfully dry clothes- shoving the rest in the dry room. Once fed I put myself straight to bed.

Cornish Coast- Falmouth to the Lizard

View from the flat where I started- looking over Falmouth docks

Not quite the Australian beauties, our own English snake

First Hike in England
   Since I got back I've been waiting for the weather to improve enough for me to hike. Typically, England had decided that Spring is not to her taste and its taken till the beginning to June to be warm enough for me to attempt it. I was going down to Falmouth, Cornwall (as far south west as you can get in England)  and figured I'd get a few days hiking in at the same time. I therefore decided to walk two or three days worth of the Coastal path, from Falmouth town to The Lizard.
  Very simple walking, hardly any navigation required and a nice starter for the year.

  Day 1- Falmouth Town to the Quarry (approximately 16 miles) 
   The walk to Mainporth is one I've done countless times and I was shocked at how close it was. I remember it been quite a sizable walk but it was nothing. From there it was easy progress to Helford River and in a matter of three or so hours I was catching the ferry across (five pounds and easily found and caught).

Helford River

  Progress from here got a little slower but at no point was it too painful a walk. I stopped at a near by beach and had a large pot of cuscus with powder soup on top. I then decided, after I struggled to cross the next estuary, to stick to the roads a bit longer. I passed through a town on the way to the quarry and stopped for a drink and a refill of my water bladder. Passed by another shop and bought another bottle of water for camping before making my way down to the sea. I ended up on the wrong side of the quarry and, weary now, a trudged around  to the other side to find the exact spot we camped in a few years ago.

Calf, a few minutes after been born

Quarry just before reaching camp

Wild camping, just after the quarry by the sea

 Day 2-  Quarry to Lizard Town (approximately 13 or so miles)
  Remained clued to the coast today which made things much more pleasant, it was a lot more up and down but at no point was it hard walking. Began the day with a great cooked breakfast in a near by cafe before I'd even completed the first mile. In the same vain I stopped at least another two times for coffee through out the day and took a considerably more leisurely pace.

Day 2

I reached the camp about 6 and still had a great deal of daylight and sunlight to set up and enjoy the evening. I had however forgotten a book and therefore was a little bored. Need to remember to bring my kindle next time and, as I have said before, my FLIP FLOPS. They make all the difference to evening. 

Lovely campsite in the Lizard, with friends ducks to keep me company

Mapleton Forest during the floods

  Just before returning to England I made one more attempt to get to th Gold Coast Hinterland Great Walk. I'd made the attempt a few times but never managed it. This time was no different. Floods and storms had been battering Queensland for over a month and the trail was closed without any idea of when it would be safe enough to re-open. This was the first time I'd planned to walk with people, two friends from work Nick and Sara and I was desperate to do something. So it was back to Mapleton Sunshine Hinterland Great Walk. This trail was also closed but when I phoned the rangers I was told that they would be re-opening it the day we planned to leave.
  With this fixed as our destination I decided to attempt to get us round the entire Great Walk in three days instead of four. We'd get off at Mapleton, walk through the Forest reserve to Thilms Thalma Camping ground on the first day, straight to Flaxton on the second before attempting the longest day to Monteville on the third. Weather wise we were in for a rough one with rain on an off the entire time with the occasional thunder storm. The ranger I'd talked to had told me that the tracks were in a bad condition and would not yield good walking. The were, however, no longer dangerous. I also asked about the creek crossings and was informed that they were doable. 


Day1 

 Once we got to Mapleton we stopped for lunch, the urgency to be on our way already gone now that public transport had delivered us at the start of the walk. Eager to go back to the cafe I'd visited a few weeks before I agreed. We all ordered out sandwiches, drinks of ice coffee and shared a berry tart for desert. A relaxed approach which was a nice change to my usual charged hike. I'd walked this walk a number of times but this time there would be a very different challenge.
  Full, we set off walking up Vilancia road before making  a right turn to enter Mapleton Forest reserve. Yet the track we headed towards was shut, a sign closing it off warning us of the danger of death which proceeding would incur. While, alone, I would have almost definitely gone the safer route group provado prevented it and we forged onwards, me been too eager to show them the entire path to back down. Soon the path was under a foot of water and our legs and shoes were drenched. A leech was happily working its was up Nick's boot and all our concentration was bent on finding and remaining on the footpath.
  Progress was slow, accompanied by moans and laughter as we worked our way through the marsh land. Flashes of Bilbo heading to Mordor went through my mind although their progress seemed blissfully free of leeches. Again, by myself I'd have been swearing my head off, but its a completely different experience when you're sharing it with others. It was great fun.
  As we curved round a gigantic tree we all stopped to take some photos, posing on the trunk I was barely able to scramble up.

 It was a relief when the land began to rise again and the mud recede. The leeches did not and Sara was having miniature hysterics every time she saw one. Sara and Nick had been smart in their choice of clothing, covering their legs completely with tightly nit garments to prevent them from attaching themselves to the skin. I wore shorts and with my usual luck ended up been the only one not to be bit. I think this might be because I could see them better, and they struggled more to get a grip- but more likely it was complete and utter luck. 
  Nearly two hours had past and we were making excruciatingly slow progress. Every time I 'd done this part of the hike I worried I'd gone the wrong way, and true enough I began to worry once more. It always seemed to take twice as much as I thought it would. Not wanting to show my uncertainty to my friends I didn't say anything.
  As we crossed a little stream me and Nick began to chant the verses from the child hood story 'Were going on a bear hunt'. It was the type of silliness which makes a walk and is hard to reach on your own.
  A five minute break at the Ubajee campsite before going down to the valley floor. The next ten or so kilometers would be low down and involve crossing and recrossing the creek. The descent however had already injured one of the team, Sara's ankle  hurt causing her to limp. We stopped several times, applying plasters and creams to try to prevent it from getting worse, but it seemed to be the heel itself. Nothing was visible but I quickly realised how stupid it was of me to undertake such hard days with someone who'd never done it before and was not a walker. I should have chosen a much easier route- although in truth we'd barely started a real day's walk.
  Here came our next problem. There creek crossings went quickly from fun dips to torrents of water with strong currents. The previous times I'd been here they'd been dry rocks and I was shocked at the difference. On our way down to the valley a strong stream had been flowing to out rights, little rooks crossing out path once or twice. Everything was overflowing with water. Stunning but hard work, and Sara was seriously struggling. Nick offered to carry her back at one point, but she would not allow it. I also was worried, while I was sure Nick could have managed it anyone forced to carry 30 odd kilos for ten or so kilometers over hard terrain would be exhausted the next day and at this rate there would be two done in on day one.

  We came to another creek, this one deeper and fiercer than the last one, about three of so kilometers from the start of the valley floor track.And here is there reason why all these photographs are of me and Nick and from Sara's camera.
  The bridge had been washed away, my first clue that I should have turned back. The bridge was originally constructed with two concrete upright walls about a meter and a half apart, two pipes passing through them to channel the current, and dirt filling in the middle to allow you to walk across. The current and floods had washed away all the dirt in the centre leaving a meter to a meter and a half depth of water in the middle. Water was flowing fast over the sides. We considered trying to balance on the walls and walk across that way but these were only half a foot wide and if we fell the fast flowing water was deep enough to submerge us, and shallow enough for us to cause our self damage on the rocks. Better wet and safe was my logic. I charged on and attempted to walk across. The washed away inside of the bridge was too deep so I attempted to get over just before the bridge, using the walls to help me balance.
  The current, as the water reached my waist, started to over balance me and I was struggling to stay on my feet. Then my foot past in front of one of the tubes and I felt the current grab a hold of my leg. I could neither move it foreward or take it back since it was only my actual weight which prevented me from be sucked in. The tube was about a foot in diameter, it would suck my leg in dragging me under water. I was carrying a 20 pound rucksack and trapped under the water would have been very dangerous and scary- apparently my face changed colour very quickly. I'd been carrying my camera above the water but at this point I was too concerned with getting out of there, I allowed it to drop back in my waist and hoped the water proof bag would protect it enough.
  I finally managed to get my foot back from the tunnel mouth and nearly falling over several times I made it back to the sure. Sara helped by extending my hiking pole for me to grab a hold of. Even before I was fully out the water I checked on my camera only to find it gone. The current had pulled it from its bag and away. I think I screeched its absence rather loudly and with the panic I'd tried to hide a few minutes before. It had cost me most than any other camera I'd ever bought times five, and I loved and cherished it. But I'd honestly thought that I was in a great deal of trouble a few minutes before, and thinking you might drown puts things into perspective very quickly, plus I partly deserved it for been such a silly twit. I read 'do not cross flooded creeks' again and again and ignored it.
  Sara suggested trying again but both me and Nick flatly refused and we turned around to head back the way we came. Night was already threatening so we headed back to Ubajee camp, back up the hill and eager to set up camp. Eager to show I wasn't upset over the camera and attempting to urge forward my hiking partners I shouted 'I spy' s back at them and been extra energetic as we climbed back up the hill. In the end it took barely more than an hour to get back to camp. Water tank provided us with water and once camp was set up me and Sara took ourselves off to wash before cooking.
  The night was a clear warm one in the end, and we spent it playing scrabble, Sara reading her book and talking. The day hadn't been anything close to a physical challenge, not what I usually strive for in my hikes but it had held it fair share of drama. Walking with partners can frustrate, you can't maintain your own pace or set your own challenges but the advantages are equal if not greater. It becomes a team effort and as soon as one of us was in trouble all worked to get them out. Usually in the evening I read and eat in my tent before going straight to sleep. Because of that you miss the magic of the forest night, on this occasion a forest mouse bouncing across our camp site every few minutes.
  I slept ontop of my sleeping back at frit, the night too ho for me to climb in. About midnight I noticed water all over the tent floor. I figured my sleeping back had gotten wet in the rived and sighing curled up in the liner. I woke up when the water become a pool, I was coland and the sleeping back was so completely wer that it needed to be rung. My three leter water bladder had sprung a leak.

Day 2
   I mannaged a few hours sleep but was relieved when morning came and I could climb out. I had to wring them dry again, and by day light I realised just how much water I'd been attempting to sleep on. We packed up and I hoped we'd be blessed with another dry day so that I'd have time to dry things out.
  Todays plan was pretty simple.. It was an easy 15 km to Flaxton and should take us any more tha four or five hour. We remained on the road for the first section, our shoes already soked and the novelty of marsh ladn wearing thin. Our shoudlers were also suffering a little, and Sara was no limping badly and walking on the back of her shoes since they hurt too badly on. After I adjusted my rucksack straps the pain in my shoulders disapeared, but Sara was still struggling and we made slow progress.
  We made our way to Mapleton Falls and rested at he bottom of the waterfall. It was a fantastic view, the water scarily fierce and Sara photographing all the way.
  On the way up Nick took the lead and set a good pace. It was quite a challenge and much faster than I would have done alone. I kept behind Sara to prevent her falling behind. Its hard walking at the tail end though and you find yourself looking at their boots more than any of the land around us.
  The camp was just after the summit and since it was already beginning to rain we set up camp as quickly as we could. Peeled the leeches from our legs, washed off and began to took shelter as the rain began to pour.
  Nick had been bitten twice yesterday and today Sara, who'd  screamed blue murder every time she found one, had been bitten once. They didn't stop when we were in our tents and their dark outline were visible flipping their way up the outside of the canvas. With the rain crashing down we crambed ourselves into the tent for two and while Sara read me and Nick had a rematch of scrabble followed my chess.

   Dinner was a rushed affair as we tried our best not to get soaked. We are an interesting combination of cuscus, mash, lamb stew and tomatoes pasta. Although cramped and damn the evening was great fun and I went to bed contented with my water bladder firmly on the outside of the tent. The slleping back was still damp but with my rain coat on I mannaged to dry it out well enough.
  Nick had washed and hung is clothes to dry on a set up washing line outside. He'd told me how it would prevent the due from wetting it.
  Sara's and Nick' tent was less waterproof than mine and as the heavens fell around four o'clock I wondered whether I should shout to see if they were okay, but I didn't want to wake them to check. In the few hours of dryness before bedtime Nick had hand washed his clothes and hung them to dry on a et up clothes line. He pointed out proudly that them been off the ground would prevent the due from settling and keeping them wet. In the morning I couldn't hear them above the rain, the pounding was so loud I needed to shout at the top of my voice.  I asked whether his clothes had escaped from due, he replied sarcastically that they had but at that point everything was wet and at least his smelt less vile than mine.

Day 3
   As soon as there was the slightest break in the weather we rushed around to pack up, and get on our way. We'd abandoned any notion of making it to Montville, Sara was walking worse than ever and the rain was unceasing. Instead we'd go to the Kondilla waterfall, then back up for breakfast at the cafe. The bus would pick us up and we'd be back in Brisbane in time to go back out for a workmates goodbye drinks.
   My rucksack was wonderfully light, having been relieved of both the three liter water bladder and two liters of red wine which we'd consumed the night before. The path was flat and it was easy walking. I also got the sense that Nick had found his rhythm and handled walking from the front a lot better than following. Sara was still struggling but neither complained or held us up, considering she'd been struggling since the very first day that was quite impressive.
  Once again I was shocked at how much water had appeared since my last visit. Just after the Flaxton picnis area there was another water fall which I'd not even realised was a river. It made me excited to see the larger fall further bellow. We passed a miniature stream on the way down and me and Nick took the chance to brush our teeth before making the final decent and we weren't dissapointed with out efforts. The waterfall was by far the largest I've seen, nearly eighty meters of a sheer drop for the river's volume of water to fall. Its noise reached us long before we say it. a good climax to our walk. Having posed for photographs we trudged back up and indulged in a full english breakfast at the flaxton barn. Its my third visit to this cafe and it really is a treasure, the food is wonderfula nd they didn't bat an eyelid when three wet and extremely smelly people walked in. The lady even remembered me from two months ago and asked me when I was heading back to England.


  The journey back was smooth and easy ending a successful and full three days walk. It taught me how much I still had to learn about hiking, dealing with the weather and planning group walks. I was far too ambitious and a little too confident. I could have managed the whole of the Great Walk in three days but not under those conditions, and not with a group of people with very mixed fitness levels.