Day 12 – Narcissus hut to Cynthia Bay

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I drag my feet getting ready. I don’t have to hurry. My check-in isn’t until 3:00 and it’s only about 16km. I savour my coffee. More goodbyes. I’m alone walking through wet scrub again on a muddy trail.

I try to moderate my walking such that I generate some warmth, but not enough to break into a sweat. It’s a fine balancing act, and my legs keep wanting to run ahead like a pair of excited puppies.

I reach Echo Point and the tiny hut there, which is empty. I rip into some chewy, chewy jerky Cheryl gave me last night. Everyone was offloading their uneaten food. It’s very good. Not like the store bought stuff at all. More like homemade, or the stuff I used to get from the butcher. I should make some jerky when I get home. I make a note for myself. I chew on it.

There’s a giant freshwater lobster in Tasmania. I keep thinking about it, though I passed the last place I might have seen one over a week ago. It lives in rivers that drain into the Bass Strait. Except the Arthur river, which used to drain into the Bass Strait, until geological upheaval flipped the switch and made it run backwards, as it continues to do today.

The colossal yabby has been measured up to 80cm long and 6kg, though they are purportedly so incredibly delicious and buttery that they were hunted nearly to extinction. They live up to 60 years and grow slowly, so hunting the biggest ones for a nice feed had a disastrous effect on the population, and large individuals are rarely found today. They’re now protected, though occasionally a tiny Japanese research vessel is caught trying to sail inland with oversized yabby traps.

I slip on a slickwet section of boardwalk and stack it arse over tits. Systems check; a little bruised, but nothing red leaking out or bits dangling that shouldn’t. Reminder to self; walk on the chicken wire. That’s what it’s there for. A bruise on my calf hurts with every step. There are still ten kilometres or so to go.

The wet scrub seems to go on forever. As I near the visitor centre, patches of sun and blue sky form tantalisingly overhead before disappearing once more.

Day Walkers begin to appear on the track, which widens to vehicle width.

I decide to walk through Fergy’s Paddock; the last free Overland campsite, and along the lakeshore.

Off the lakeside, and up to the visitor centre. I couldn’t have timed it more perfectly if I’d been trying. My bubble are there, just at that moment gathering for a group photo before getting on a bus. They cheer me in. If I was an emotional kinda person, I might have teared up a little.

Straight into the cafe for an Overland Burger™ and a beer. How do we judge such things? Was it worth the $27 for the burger? Probably not. Was I happy to pay it? Yes. Yes I was.

There’s two free showers for (all) walkers at the visitor centre. I haven’t picked up my food drop with the shower thongs in it yet, but I decide to roll the dice. The sign says the showers are cleaned daily, so that’s something. They’re timed to five minutes of mind-blowing, toe-curling hot water, then there’s a five minute refractory period.

I kick my feet up for a while, availing myself of the lodge wifi, then order a pizza for dinner. It’s definitely better than the burger. In all, I give them four roadkill pademelons out of five.