30.1km +1565m -1421m
Farewell, Bob’s Hut, you creepy fucker.
I’m going to head to Black River, and then make a decision whether to strike out for Rumpff Saddle or leave it as a short day.
I am informed that the track down to Black River, across a log bridge then up to the campsite has been recently cleared. Most people take the fire trail. If this intelligence is inaccurate, there could be some significant bush bashing and wading.
Makes a nice change from the dirt and gravel.
…
Off what looks like a very challenging 4×4 track, and onto a footpath towards Black River.
Over the log bridge…
You pop out onto a rough 4×4 track and need to cross the river. This can be done by wading, or the intrepid can spend ten minutes crawling through blackberries and over logs just upstream and keep their feet dry.
Once on the other side, follow the 4×4 track uphill until you find the turn for the AAWT.
I’ll rest here a bit. I think by now we both know I’m going to crunch the 15km and 900m to Rumpff saddle this afternoon.
The walk up Mount Shillinglaw was sweaty and difficult, despite having been mercifully recently cleared.
What rough beast, it’s hour come round at last, slouches toward Rumpff Saddle to be resupplied?
By the Old Gods and new, I made it! Suck it, Mount Shillingham, you overgrown hillock!
I didn’t reach camp until 6:30 or so, not leaving much time until the light will be gone. I threw up the hammock quickly and dragged the food under the tarp like a hyena afraid of having a mostly fresh cadaver stolen from it.
It’s windy here again (I camped here exactly a week ago with Ron and Doug while doing the food drops) though not quite as bad. There’s a mist. I think I’m in a cloud.
It’s taken me four and a half days of walking to get here. I had budgeted six. There’s a hell of a lot in front of me, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my misgivings. It is, after all, a blatantly ridiculous notion to hike the alps in a hammock. And it’s not an environment I have a huge amount of familiarity with. But this is a milestone and I’m pretty damn proud of myself. I think I’ll have some celebratory metwurst, courtesy of aunty Alex and uncle Mick.
My feet are, again, tender and sore, but still no blisters, blackened toenails or eldritch growths.
I have a lot of food left from the first section still, and I’ll need to leave that in my drop for collection by a trail angel. I’ll also not be taking all of the resupply food. I seem to have provisioned twice as much scroggin as I need, for one thing. I’m also holding a whole extra 100g fuel canister. Hopefully whoever picks it up will be able to use some of them.
