20.5km +745m -1144m
Had a nice sleep in and reorganised my food from the comfort of my sleeping bag. Onwards! Into the wild… (grey?) yonder!
I’m beginning on the section that includes Mount Buggery, Crosscut Saw and The Viking. There should be some amazing views assuming it’s not all cloud.
I didn’t pack enough water when leaving this morning, which is ridiculous because it came from the jerry can I left with my food drop. There were plenty of large puddles along the track I could have filtered from, except that they had all been driven through by trail bikers and the sediment stirred up. I didn’t like the idea of clogging my filter, so I drank what I had and pressed on, knowing I’d find water at Low Saddle.
I blame the minor dehydration for missing my turn off. It’s certainly not something I’ve documented twice before on this walk. By the time I realised, I was down Mount Sunday and would have had to walk back up it to get back to the track. This would mean sweating. I decided the more prudent option would be to take the significantly longer, but flatter fire trail that contours around back to Low Saddle. I also expected to find water along here at a gully crossing. At least the views were good, and I met a little guy. I want to say water dragon, but the morphology is a bit different than I’ve seen.
I was passed by a couple of 4x4s, but for a long weekend, not as many as I would have expected.
My watch’s battery ran out at some point and stopped tracking me. Annoying.
Walking down this track, adding unnecessary kilometres, I found myself being uncommonly angry with myself. I typically have a fairly laissez-faire approach to mistakes, but this was really getting on my nerves and it took mindfulness to keep from beating myself up. The track does strange things to the mind.
When I made it to Low Saddle there was a tent set up and a bloke sitting on his own eating rice out of a pot. I know my people when I see them.
Rod started his walk the day before me. He had in fact camped only a hundred metres further down the road last night. I’ve been slowly gaining on him all this time.
As I set up my hammock I kept getting bitten. I’d angered a large nest of bull ants. Too bad: this was the best spot in the campsite. I sprayed my connection points with bug spray and hoped for the best.
Rod and I chatted over dinner, joked as the sun set that it was getting late, and went to bed. But not before I made a quick run 800m down the road and back to stock up on water for tomorrow.
I’m concerned about the forecast. Wednesday in particular looks to be nasty. With two days of relaxed walking I can be at Macalister Springs and Vallejo Gatner hut where I can sit out Wednesday’s weather. Of course, a lot can change between now and then, but it seems the prudent course, rather than trying to walk the crosscut saw in a storm.
