Distance: 21km
Time: 7:45
Total Distance: 540km
Music: The Be Good Tanyas – Out of the Wilderness
If you can force your every nerve and sinew
To serve their turn long after they are done
And still go on when there is nothing in you
Except the will which says to them, ‘go on’.Rudyard Kipling – If
I wake naturally before the dawn, worrying about the boat crossing. Wind and tide can make it dangerous, and though there’s little wind today, I don’t know enough about tides to guess how it will be. In any case, the tide will be what the tide will be when I get there. It’s going to be another big day, but if I pull this off I get rewarded with a dry rest day. I’m glad to be starting early.
Early!
Shug
The views become more striking as I approach the harbour, the trail winding across hilltops with lush forests in the valleys below and craggy mountains above. Much more of a lost world than the hilly plateau of yesterday.
I got a message this morning. Apparently the USA and Israel are at war with Iran. Maybe I’ll just stay out here in the bush for a few more months and see how things play out.
As I pass the junction with the short track down to the campground, I meet four bushwalkers coming up from camp. They’re heading north. They have good news and bad news. The good news is that there are two boats on this side, meaning I only have to do the crossing once. The bad news is that the tide is going out, meaning I’ll have to swing wide or risk being washed out.
I have a quick bite to eat and a squeeze of peanut butter for energy, don the hideous yellow life jacket, secure the oars, and push the tinnie out into the water. It takes some getting used to, operating the oars in balance, and it’s annoying not being able to look where I’m going. I would have preferred a kayak or canoe, but I guess I’m grateful I don’t have to swim across.
I swing out quite wide in the calm waters next to the peninsula I just walked down, then head across the strait. Being careful to aim inland of my goal, I row hard and ceaselessly against the tide. My arms have done fuck-all except help pull me up the occasional steep climb over the last four weeks, and they may not be as trail-hardened as my legs, but they’re fresh. The tide hastens closer to the far shore, and against all odds I hit my target of the boat ramp dead-on. I’m so glad I don’t have to do that two more times.
As I sit on the southern peninsula eating lunch and feeling pleased with myself, two yachts motor effortlessly past.
I pass the turn for the South West Cape circuit. I really wish I had the days to do it.
The day heats up as I near Melaleuca. It’s supposed to reach 27°, and I’m basically at sea level now. I’ve drunk four litres of water. The air is thick.
The New Harbour Range hoves into view. Beyond that is the ocean. Beyond that is Antarctica.
To be honest I’m not paying much attention over the final few kilometres. Occasionally I look up from the track to appreciate the beautiful landscape, but mostly I’m slogging through mud or just watching my footing, eager to get to camp.
Just before I reach Melaleuca, a light plane lands on the dirt airstrip. The Port Davey track finishes by crossing the airstrip, so as I’m walking in, a group of hikers are getting their gear together, preparing to make a start on the South Coast Track this afternoon.
I meet Deb and Richard, the two volunteer caretakers, who guide me to collect my food drop from the unlocked shed by the airstrip, which I carry down to the Hiker Zone. There are two huts with bunks in them, both modeled apparently on aircraft hangers with a half-cylinder design, a picnic table, and a shady campsite spread throughout a small forest.
I meet Liz and Monica, who have flown in for a walking holiday and strongly recommend heading out towards the South west.
It doesn’t feel like three days since I last gorged myself on the treats in a food drop. It feels like way more than that. I restrain myself somewhat. I have an early dinner of mashed potato and salmon with a Coke. What a treat! I savour every bite and sip.
I meet Ed from Victoria and Hannah from Austria as they scurry about sorting food and arranging to send stuff out on a plane. They’re on a huge adventure of their own, having just completed the Anne circuit, Port Davey and South West Cape circuit, and preparing to leave tomorrow to walk out the South Coast Track, and maybe up Precipitous Bluff and out along the range. We sit and chat while they have their dinner and I make tea. Ed did the AAWT the year after me, and also credits it as a gateway drug to Tassie. Hannah has also been to South Island NZ and done Gertrude Saddle and Lake Marion. We swap food and marvel at the amazing sensation of eating something different to what we packed ourselves. I am in ecstasy over laughing cow cheese and crackers, they delight in a share of my mead liqueur.
I went into an Asian grocer and they have these big bags of freeze dried shrimp. I was riding the dried shrimp wave for a while there.
Ed
Ed echoes my own experience. Not about the shrimp, but that having come out here and completed so much of what he’d wanted to do, his list has gotten longer, not shorter. Hannah is glad that I found Mt Anne sketchy as well; not feeling so alone in that. I’m a little jealous of the walk they’re doing.
We chat and compare notes until the sun sets, then say goodnight. I’ve got one of the huts to myself, and manage to string the hammock up for the night. Tomorrow all I have to do is map out my last nine days of walking, sort my food, and upload the days of blogging that have been piling up.
I haven’t had a full rest day since I limped out of Derwent Bridge twelve days ago.
After I go to bed I hear a scampering on the boardwalk and go out to investigate. A huge tiger quoll (spotted-tailed quoll) is entirely unconcerned by my presence. I’m stoked to have seen this. Also I’m going to be more careful with my small belongings for the rest of the trip now I know these guys are around.
