Day 6 – Cradle Mountain Rest Day

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I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of rustling. It’s rustlers! I lean out of my hammock and find two campground possums (a larger, less timid species of possum than the usual ones) snuffling around my stuff. I don’t have room to store everything inside the hammock, so some off it just lives on the ground under/next to me. Out of sheer half-asleep reflex, I give the big one a hard slap on the nose the way you would a naughty cat, and they scamper off. Don’t tell NPWS.

I fall asleep again, and they return for one more try a while later. I guess they have a nightly circuit. At the last moment before leaving on this trip, I ordered a Possum Pouch. I figured I could use it for a mid-section partial food drop later on, and save myself carrying a bunch of weight during a difficult side loop. I’ve also heard horror stories about some of the fiends at the more popular campsites. The retrofit latches on the wheelie bins I saw while walking around yesterday tipped me off that it might be a good idea to put it to use.

After failing to get into my food, it comes around the other side and tries to get into my hammock for a snuggle, but I don’t fancy having to explain my infidelity to my cats back home, so I shoo it off again and am not awoken a third time.

Lest anyone decry the reduced protection of a hammock over a tent; I’ve heard of possums on the Overland chewing their way into a tent in search of a chocolate bar wrapper. A few microns of nylon is a psychological protection from nature, and little more.

After a leisurely breakfast of exactly the same thing I’ve had for the last six days, I head over to one of the laundry blocks for to do a desperately needed clothes wash while wearing just my rain pants and puffer jacket. while I wait, I clean and wax my boots and give them a scrub to clean off any pesky phytopthora that might have hitched a ride.

I resupply my medical and hygiene bits and bobs, and discover a cherry liqueur chocolate left there as a present from past-me. Thanks!

And because I still have time until the drier cycle completes, I do a little foot maintenance while nobody’s around to see it. Alan’s advice on foot care is worth its weight in gold. Check this out:

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I check my tracking tags (the white disc next to the chocolate above) and see that the Melaleuca drop has already been taken out. I wonder if they confused February with March. That’s a little concerning; the food drops just sit on a shelf and I’ve heard stories of them being raided by other hikers (who should fucking well know better).

But I email Par Avion, who assure me they’ve never heard of this happening, which allays my concerns somewhat. It does mean there won’t be any last minute power bank additions to that drop though.

I take my food drop into the empty mess hall and lay everything out on a table. It’s organising time! This was a last minute addition: weighing only a few grams it allows you to transfer gas between canisters. You warm one in the sun or with your hands and cool the other in the shade or a stream.

I find somebody who’s happy to take the empty orange dry bag, maps from north of here, a half used gas canister, and assorted muesli bars and hot chocolate sachets. I can’t take them with me, and I’m really glad to not be throwing them out. She seemed happy too. Win-win!

I spend some time looking at alternate routes south of Derwent Bridge, then wander down to the visitor centre for the briefing and to collect my pass.

I’m the only one there for the afternoon briefing session. I vainly hope this means fewer crowds on the walk, but somehow i doubt it. I have to hand over a signed form saying I’ve got all the crap I need to minimise the chance of dying. The bloke giving the briefing was affable, with a faint hint of NZ accent. He told me of one time him and his partner were on the track in August, in snow, and they ran into a guy doing it barefoot in sweatpants, with a burlap sack fastened with a head band. He made it to Narcissus, where the rangers strongly suggested he get on the ferry.

After the briefing I pick up a third merino buff from the gift shop, which is full of last minute necessities like wet weather gear, poop trowels and commemorative tea towels. This one is even warmer than the two Icebreaker buffs I have with me.

I’ve got some time so I jump the bus up the road to the Ranger Station (I look, but I guess Strider is out on patrol) and go for a quick walk down past Knyvet falls, but turn around before reaching Dove canyon. Just enough to get the juices flowing and remind my legs what we’re here for. I rock hop a little to get a video of the falls and realise that my body has quickly shifted into pack-carry mode over the walk so far, and without the weight on my back I’m a little unbalanced.

I use the benefit of a strong internet connection and nearby power points to have a nice video chat with Shelle back home, and then head back to Hellyers for another takeaway dinner. I thought I’d try the pizza this time, but the pizza oven was out of commission, so it was fish and chips again. Somehow better this time, possibly because my expectations had been tempered.

Over dinner I reread Becca’s blog of her traverse; specifically the section south of Derwent Bridge, and find myself feeling much reassured that it’s within my capability. I’ll just have to be careful of the weather. I would like to urge every reader of this blog to slaughter a fatted lamb in supplication to the gods to ensure my safe passage please. In the absence of a fatted lamb, a mock lamb sculpted from spam may fool some of the lesser gods.

I download the most recent weather forecasts. There’s some rain on the way.