Day 19 – Clark Dam to Wayatinah

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The spot I chose to camp was more sheltered than I’d thought, though the wind ripped and roared through the treetops. I slept warm and cozy in my cocoon. It’s hard to get out of bed.

I’m going to aim for Wayatinah, 30km away, and see how I go. Maybe Tarraleah, which is closer. I’m preparing myself for the possibility of hitching part of the Lyell Highway. I think I can convince myself my adventure on the other side of the lake can count against the gap in the line.

I don’t start walking until 8:30. Immediately my knee twinges, but then seems to settle down. I walk straight through the construction site warning. What will be, will be.

Around the bend, a couple of Hydro workers are sitting in utes out of the rain. I ask them, and they say it’s fine to walk through, just watch out for trucks.

The freshly graded gravel road is bliss. The drizzle continues to come and go in waves, but the forecast says things will clear up before too long.

Butlers Gorge road follows the Tarraleah canal for about 7km. At one point I’m confused by the sound of a vehicle I can’t see, until I notice a jeep full of hydro workers speeding up the empty canal.

One of the many utes driving past stops for a chat. He’s happy for me to be walking through, but he’s worried about my grey attire in the drizzle and cloud. He gives me a high vis vest to wear and wishes me luck.

There are markers every 500m giving the distance to the highway. It’s a sort of subtle torture.

Finally I reach the Lyell Highway. I sit on a felled tree and consider my options. It’s 12:30 and I’ve walked 17km already. I can walk the 4.5 km into Tarraleah, but it’s off my route. I’d have to come back out again tomorrow. Or I can do the 12.5 km down to Wayatinah. My knee has been doing well, but there’s a bit of a downhill to get there. I really hate walking on roads with traffic. Oh well. I gotta get the kilometres done while I can, and at least the weather has cleared up nicely.

The Lyell Highway has fuck-all shoulder in places. I make a deal with myself. I won’t put my thumb out, but I’ll accept a ride if it’s offered.

There’s road works, the highway reduced to a single lane with automated traffic lights letting cars through in turn. I muse on how vehicle-centric so much of our world is. I walk up to a couple of workers and ask if I can walk through. They’re friendly, and taken aback when I tell them where I’ve cone from.

Once I make it past the roadworks, a guy in a truck loaded down with freshly felled trees stops and yells back to ask if I want a lift, I yell back nah thanks, breaking my pact with myself. I want to do this myself. I want my line.

At least the traffic is infrequent.

You don’t really know what a kilometre is until you experience the world one of them at a time at walking pace.

8km to go. A circuit of Black Mountain.

7km to go. The distance around lake Ginninderra.

In places I realise I can jump ten meters to the right and walk on a somewhat cleared forestry path. This is a nice reprieve from the constant vigilance of walking on the road. An oncoming gust of wind sounds almost exactly like an oncoming car. Mostly the wider shoulder is on the right. Mostly I walk on the right so I have a clear view of oncoming traffic. My life is watching and listening for cars.

2km to go. The distance to the post office and back.

I follow my tired feet into the caravan park. An unpowered site for the night is $16. A coke and an icecream is $8. She gives me a dollar coin for the shower. I choose to believe she’s being nice rather than making a point.

I’m showered, fed and in bed by 7:30. My calves are a bit tight, but my knee feels better than it did this time yesterday.

31km. I took a gamble pushing myself this far today. With the benefit of road walking not requiring any navigation, I’m free to pay close attention to what my body is telling me. This isn’t as good as complete rest, but it’s not making things worse, either.

Jonathan nailed it in the comments. I’m acutely aware that I’ve lost four days, and by sticking to my ridiculous desire for an unbroken line, I’ve put pressure on myself to try and catch up to my schedule, while balancing that against a body that needs some recovery.

Speaking of which, I really can’t overstate the restorative powers of hammock sleeping. The comfort invites one to climb into bed as soon as possible, so twelve hours of repose are easy to achieve. And the legs are slightly elevated, which I believe has a beneficial effect after a long day of walking. Also something to do with pyramids and crystals.

If I want to catch up with my schedule, I’ve got six days to get to Scott’s Peak Dam. I’m almost certainly going to have to choose between Lake Rhona and Mount Anne.

I’m not seeing many high areas over the next few days. Could be a while before my next update. Who can say?