Heaven (somewhere in the north Tarkine)

It was another standard morning, dear reader. Up at 6:00am to pack down as much of the tent as possible before a 6:30am breakfast. Yep, you guessed it, porridge and tea. Dave was done with eating glue (porridge) by this stage. Much like his youth at home he simply said he had eaten when really he had not. Then packs on at 8:00am for what was billed as the hardest walk of the trek. In retrospect, I beg to differ. The first two were by far harder. Those walks were long, steep and it was humid.

We back-tracked to the wooden signpost, directing us to heaven. I was glad we were going there; it would probably be my only opportunity. It was the usual undulating walk, or ‘fundulating’ as the guides referred to it, dodging fallen trees, crossing creeks and searching for the disappearing pink tape on a negligible track.

Off to heaven we go.

The forest was, as expected, quiet. The scenery consistent with what we’d experienced. That said, I’d never tire of it and there was always some surprising burst of colourful fungi, or a patch of moss, sunlit and sparkling with water droplets. The challenge here was to be able to get low enough to get a photograph, without the weight of the back toppling me over. Sometimes I was successful, other times gravity was the winner.

We reached heaven mid-morning. Reached? Attained? Achieved? Maybe ascended is the correct term. Regardless, it is the inspiration for today’s title by the Eurhythmics from 1987. We were greeted with clouds of lichen as we walked towards a clear patch of rock to drop packs and soak up the sun. Beyond the clouds of lichen was a pool, held in place by some very large boulders. Beyond that a waterfall. The warmth of the sun made it idyllic.

Clouds of lichen.

The idea of a swim was tempting, but not overly so, given the change of clothes required. Only one of our group decided a swim in heaven was on her 'to do' list. The rest of us turned spectator.

The heavenly cascade.

Back on the track after a peaceful break, we commenced climbing to the top of the nearest ridge. It would have been a relatively simple task if we could have walked in a straight line. However, the climb was steep and involved a number of switch backs, not to mention the usual issues of trees down and disappearing pink track markers. Our lunch site finally came complete with a tarp which was handy as the wind speed increased, the temperature decreased and the racing clouds attempted to make life a little more difficult, dropping light rain on us. The space, with its rotting tarp, was originally a camp site for the expedition under the previous owners. But when Trek took over they opted to abandon the site and push on to where we would eventually stop to ensure a lighter period of walking on the final day. A most intelligent move.

Our final lunch on the track.

The wind kept the temperature down and returned the humid air to the north where it belonged. After pushing on from lunch we wound our way through the forest before emerging onto an old logging road. Although sections of the track were tough, it made walking much more pleasant. The appearance of the logging road signalled the end of our meandering through unmarked forest and, while the odd pink tape was still necessary, they were few and far between now as we moved along an obvious path. The rainforest started to give way to wet sclerophyll once again as Bauera and cutting grass became more frequent. As we closed in our camp site, the track completely disappeared beneath an apocalypse of fallen trees. Lish and Lani headed off in different directions to navigate a path around the destruction that had been caused months ago by a violent storm.

Time to relax.

A way forward was revealed and the track was rediscovered and we arrived at the camp site on schedule. We dropped packs and went in search of a space to pitch our tent. The site, although beautiful, picturesque and tranquil was small and quite tight. The area we selected just housed our two-person tent but it meant we would be sleeping on a slight slope.

A most reflective spot.

The camping area was on the bend of Eastons Creek. There was a pool, obvious platypus country, and a series of cascades. It would have a been a great place to set up and kick back to contemplate the world. Being close to the river made water collection easy but meant the toilet trench was way back up the hill away from the river to avoid any contamination. The beauty of the site was worth the trade-off.

Dinner was rice and Dahl curry, an interesting choice given the limited toileting options.

While sleep was not so forthcoming, the sound of the cascades and the zipper noises of the ring-tailed possums in the bush was some compensation.

Dave communing with god in heaven.

Weather: windy, some cloud, clear afternoon.

Distance covered: 11.9km.

Total distance: 55.7km

Until tomorrow.

 

So Many Paths (somewhere in the north Tarkine)

Today’s title, dear reader, is a classic by the Little River Band from 1978. Although there may have been many paths up the mountain, our single path was overgrown and problematic and the view from the top? Not, as the song states, still the same but quite changeable. More on that later.

The day began in a more leisurely fashion because there was no requirement to break camp. We were up at 6:45am for a 7:00am breakfast to leave to climb the mountain at 8:00am. Today it was an out and back walk, from the camp site to a trig station above the canopy that promised views of where we had meandered to date.

Light filtering through the canopy.

As seemed to be the fashion, the first direction was up through the still dripping scrub. The forecast for today was for serious rain and possible thunderstorms. To date the weather had been very kind and there was only a brief shower overnight, which did not amount to much.

The “track” snaked its way through the forest, undulating up and down the hill side, as we negotiated fallen trees. We followed the magic pink tags when they could be seen. It was easy to wander off if you allowed your attention to drift - the track was indistinct, even non-existent in sections, because so few humans pass through the area. Tracks were easily swallowed by a sea of leatherwood petals, falling leaves or rapidly growing mosses and lichens. We are the last group of the year to walk through this section of the Tarkine, the next people to come through, won’t arrive until November, eight months away.

A steep bit.

Despite the relatively short distance we needed to cover, progress was slow at times. We clambered up hills littered with the fallen giants of the forest. We splashed through creeks, across muddy areas and through fern gullies and groves. It was difficult but the mist, which showed no signs of dissipating, made it ethereal. The grey sky above suggested rain was still a real possibility.

There were plenty of fungi.

After a morning of dips and climbs, we were suddenly heading steeply downhill to a creek crossing. The climb up the other side was like nothing I’d ever experienced. There was a narrow track that could only been seen when deliberately searching for it. The scrub had encroached from both sides. Bauera, two metres tall and dense, completely enclosed the way forward and could only be negotiated by force. The track was incredibly steep and very slippery underfoot and the Bauera attempted to thwart any progress at every tiny step. Slip back, fall to the side, lunge forward. The person in front of you might be only two steps away but they could not be seen. I have bush-bashed before but nothing in this league. It was exhausting, but the view from the top drew me forward. Sorry, no photos, I didn’t dare stop to unclip the camera.

Button grass, heath and mist.

Suddenly the Bauera was gone and button grass was in its place. While it grabbed at your boots and tried to trip you, the going was much easier. The danger on the track was now the occasional jack jumper nest. It eventuated that there were four nests between the end of the Bauera and the trig station. The ants looked angry, I didn’t stop to find out as the call “jack jumper nest” was passed down the line to alert the unsuspecting.

The button grass signalled the final climb to the summit. The mist was still rolling across the valley although the cloud had started to thin. Would the promised view be waiting for us?

The summit.

That became a secondary concern after we hit the top of the mountain. Our first actions were to drop the daypacks and check for leeches. I had two. One was just beginning to sup on my knee before its meal was terminated. There was another attempting to traverse my boot.

The literal high point of the day.

De-leeched and re-energised by chocolate (thanks Dave), we explored our surroundings and looked out across the top of the Tarkine. The mist was rolling away, the clouds, although moving very fast, were clearing and there were brief patches of sun. Worth the struggle? I remain unconvinced.

The view as the mist cleared.

The return trip was so much easier that I began to wonder if I had exaggerated the experience on the way there. We moved quickly toward camp, stopping only to de-leech once again. This time I had three of the little critters, inching their way up my boots and gaiters. None made their target. We were back at camp for lunch.

These did not make dinner.

Once again, Dave volunteered to be the water carrier as we made our way down to the creek and up to the Tarkine Falls. I tried some fancy shots of the falls but without a tripod and stable surface it proved nearly impossible.

The falls.

The afternoon was quite restful and we whiled the day away playing cards and chatting. Dave was introduced to Monopoly Deal, the card game version of iconic board game. He lost. Multiple times. A fact Lani was prone to remind him about for the remainder of the trek. Lucky Dave isn’t competitive (LOL. Much). He totally didn’t vow to buy Monopoly Deal when he got home, master the craft and request Lani as the guide for our next adventure so sweet revenge could be extracted (he did). The wind continued to blow from the south which kept the humidity at bay and the sun continued to shine. 

Arty shot of the falls.

Dinner was mushroom and pea risotto. The guides continue to surprise by pulling fresh food from their large backpacks and challenging David’s palate.

A riff on the 'boots and view' shot.

Weather: misty and cloudy before a clear afternoon.

Distance covered: 11.1km.

Total distance: 43.8km

Until tomorrow. 

Heaven Can Wait (somewhere in the north Tarkine)

We woke to the sound of thunder. It was disturbingly loud and promised to deliver the rain we’d been expecting. It was quite pleasant to lie snug and warm in the pre-dawn, listening to it roll across the valley, despite what it might bring. As it eventuated, there was more noise than substance, at least for where we were camped. There was a brief, very light, shower of rain before dawn and another at breakfast. Nothing substantial and certainly nothing to impede the breaking of camp.

Breakfast under the tarp was the usual porridge and tea. While the brown sugar made the porridge slightly more palatable, I was still not a convert. By the time breakfast was over, our tent was dry enough to pack. Today’s walk was 7km, allegedly. We’d see what my Apple watch had to say at day’s end. The bonus was that our new camp site would be home for the next two nights.

Purple coral.

Our walk today included two rest breaks plus lunch. We were underneath the canopy the entire day which protected us from the intermittent drizzle which persisted on and off for around an hour all up. It wasn’t really enough to get us wet.

The rainforest is populated by three main species of tree, myrtle, leatherwood and sassafras, and a proliferation of tree ferns. The ground is carpeted by mosses and lichens in all shades of green. Actually, everything is covered by the mosses and lichens, the ground, the trunks of trees and ferns, and the trees that have fallen. It is a wonderland of muffled sound, soft footfalls and filtered light.

There are reportedly over 400 varieties of fungi in the Tarkine. We saw fungi of all colours, shapes and sizes, from huge bracket fungi to small emerging coral varieties, from white to red to purple and all colours in between.

One of the many bracket fungi.

Our undulating walk was more pleasant today due to the drop in humidity. While we had some steep sections to negotiate, there were no sections that caused me to sweat profusely enough to have it drip off my nose. That said, the forest is an ever-changing landscape and trees come crashing down on a regular basis. Negotiating these fallen giants and following the magic pink tape trail markers could prove challenging. Especially if the fallen tree also obliterated the site of the tape. At one particularly smashed up gully courtesy of a very large fallen tree, our lead guide for that section, Lish, found some “track treasure”: a lone walking pole that must have fallen from someone’s pack during a previous expedition. Rather than add weight to her pack, Dave adopted the pole as his own for the remainder of the trip. A quick Google when we returned to civilisation revealed the pole to be a Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ worth $180 when new. Score!

At the crest of one hill was a wooden sign post. In one direction was heaven, in the other, Tarkine Falls, our destination. Heaven can wait, I quipped as we changed direction to the falls. And yes, dear reader, the obvious link to today’s title, a cracker from Meatloaf back in 1977.

Our camp site was less than a 45 minute walk from the signpost and we were ferrying the food bags to the kitchen by 3:45pm. Fortunately the tarp was in place as the light drizzle continued. The tents were constructed under the tarp and then walked into place and anchored to the ground. It was a mini production line and effectively ensured a dry tent for the night.

A mood shot of our tent.

The rain stopped and the brave and energetic walked to the waterfall to refill water bottles. This included Dave who carried water for a number of the other walkers who opted to stay around camp. We gathered under the tarp around 5pm for tea or hot chocolate, as the afternoon drifted towards dinner. That evening, dinner was tofu laksa with fresh snow peas. Dave’s palate was certainly travelling to new places on this trek. I even saw him eat a chicken and salad roll. (from Dave: Snitch!)

The rain made them prettier.

This group was, without doubt, the most cohesive group with whom I’ve ever walked. I posed this conundrum to everyone on one of our rest breaks earlier in the day: if there is always “that someone” in any given group, and this group doesn’t have “that someone”, does that mean I am that person? Or is it Dave? It garnered a few laughs and the acknowledgement that we didn’t have “that someone”.

Before bed, I decided to brave the toilet trench. The darkness wasn’t really a concern but being attacked by giant moths flying at my headlamp was, well, distracting and disconcerting. Back down at camp, we headed for the tent and bed. Getting in and out of a two-person tent proved challenging. There was limited space to sit to remove your boots and stash your pack in the vestibule and changing for bed meant lying down to remove your existing clothes. A wet tent fly only exacerbated things, but our mattresses were comfortable, sleeping bags warm and the tent, despite conditions, was dry inside.

The symbol of the Tarkine: a curling fern frond.

The distance of today’s walk was an estimate because my watch misbehaved and didn’t fully track two sections.

Weather: some light rain

Distance covered: 10.5km.

Total distance: 32.7km

Until tomorrow.

 

Dr Worm (north Tarkine Rainforest, Tasmania)

After a fitful sleep, it was breakfast at 7:30am. A sleep in by trekking standards, although we were up earlier to pack down the interior of the tent. Breakfast was, unsurprisingly, porridge. I understand the reasons why this is the choice of trekkers, but I am not a fan. Nor is Dave. Despite that, we both had some to supply the energy required for the day ahead. Another 7km walk today. Allegedly.

Lani offered me a coffee. I replied that, a s coffee snob, I couldn’t recall the last time I had instant coffee. Slightly offended, she explained it was ‘camp’ coffee. Not camp as in flamboyant. I’d had it previously, years ago, it is ground coffee boiled up in a big pot and, while it delivers a substantial caffeine hit, I declined and had a cup of black tea.

Our spacious home.

Packing the tent down was quick and easy, but the need to reorganise your pack everyday wore thin quickly. This was essential because every time we reached a new camp site, we had to deliver our share of the group’s food to the kitchen. The required, sensible, weight distribution through the backpack meant the food bag sat in the middle of the pack. It also meant that all of the food was redistributed across the bags to ensure equity of the weight carried. While this was not a problem in the, so far, dry weather, it could become one if/when the predicted rain arrived.

So many mushrooms.

We spent the entire day in the rainforest, walking up hill and down dale. The variety of fungi is amazing. Every colour under the rainbow and a multitude of shapes. The forest is dominated by massive myrtle and leatherwood trees. We saw numerous bee hives on the drive and walk yesterday, specifically to collect pollen from the Leatherwood trees to make honey. It has a very distinctive taste apparently and is much sought after.

Somewhere in the Tarkine.

The Leatherwood trees were at the end of their flowering and there were petals strewn throughout the forest. It looked like the aftermath of a MAFS wedding ceremony (do not judge me). The white-petalled flowers were quite rare, individual petals were everywhere.

A Leatherwood flower.

On the way to camp, we crossed paths with numerous green rosellas, a cheeky grey fantail, a surprised ring-tailed possum and two tiger snakes. Tassie is home to three snake varieties, all poisonous. Happily, not aggressive like mainland snakes. They slithered away when we came into sight.

No idea. There were so many fungi.

The forest is not home to a lot of animals or birds, for that matter. As a survivor of Gondwana, it existed before animals and birds. While birds like Rosellas and Black Cockatoos have moved into the tree tops, ground level is home to mosses, lichens, fungi and weird canary worms. There are no heath plants to house, feed and protect smaller birds. Of course the yellow canary worm is the link to today's title Dr Worm by They Might Be Giants from 1998.

A yellow canary worm.

We made camp by 4pm to find the permanent tarps blown down. Not so permanent. The guides produced a replacement tarp from one of their backpacks and it was secured across a rope line between the trees. Shelter for cooking and eating if required.

Dave and I in the wilderness.

Food bags delivered and tents up, we removed our boots to check for blisters. Unfortunately, Dave and I both had a blister. Not a large one, but given what was ahead … Our guides carried the magic tape to inhibit blisters, Fixomull. It was used frequently by many of us and it worked. I shall be buying a roll to keep in my bushwalking kit for future use.

Dave preparing to attack his blister.

Water, as it was for the entire trip, came unfiltered from the creeks and rivers we crossed. Pure bliss. The water in Launnie is very heavily chlorinated. The creek was about 100m or so downhill to refill bottles. Dave and I calculated we had sufficient to get through the afternoon and evening and since we were crossing the creek in the morning, we would refill then. So we settled in on a log under the tarp … until it suddenly collapsed without warning. The log, not the tarp. Dave’s end, not mine. We both ended up flat on our backs, much to the amusement of the others – once they realised we were uninjured.

Our tent in the distance.

Dinner, sunset, bed.

Our guides Lish and Lani checking the map.

We had both purchased new light weight sleeping bags and mats, specifically for this trip to reduce weight. They both packed down much smaller than our old gear, another bonus. The sleep mats were very comfortable despite the tree roots we slept on. The bags proved to be warm, although we hadn’t experienced any cold weather. My pump also proved its worth. Tiny and weighing only 8 grams, it plugged into my power bank and inflated our mattresses quickly.

Slime fungus can move in search of food.

Weather: humid, cloudy, no rain.

Distance covered: 9km, not the projected 7km.

Total distance: 22.2km

Until tomorrow.

The Road to Nowhere (Launceston to Penguin to the north Tarkine)

We were up at 6am to ensure we started the day with a pie and sausage roll from Banjo’s. There was a very sad and crumpled someone sitting in the corner, head on table, looking very much the worse for wear, dark hair spread out before them like a congealed oil spill. The brekky pie would provide sustenance for the long walk ahead, for us at least. I’m not sure how person in the corner faced the rest of the day.

Dave got a small sausage roll as he isn’t one for breakfast on a good day. I settled for a pie and was accidentally served a singular party pie by the youth behind the counter. A second party pie was purchased to bring me closer to full pie. It was not the same. Ah well, next time.

Pick up on Sunday morning was 7:30am. We were downstairs, checking out from the hotel when we saw the bus parked in the drive. As we moved towards it, it drove off. We would have been out earlier had we not needed to discuss storing our luggage at the hotel while we were in the Tarkine. I had assumed storage of our one bag would not be a problem, since we would be returning to stay at the same hotel for our last night before we headed home. Incorrect. The Sebel Launceston does not store luggage. I have never encountered this before. Anywhere in the world.

Somewhat annoyed we dragged our gear out to the driveway to await the return of the bus. While we were enjoying the fresh morning air, a flock of yellow-tailed black cockatoos flew south. I regard Mangana, the yellow-tailed black cockatoo, as my totem and see it as a sign of good fortune. Apparently the Palawa people view the cockatoo as a messenger, guardian or ancestral spirit. It was an excellent way to begin our trek.

The penguin in Penguin.

After we had picked up the remainder of the group, we drove to Penguin. Coffee for us, shopping for supplies for our guides. The penguin in Penguin was sporting the same shirt as last year which makes sense, given it was almost a year to the day since we were there. We did not have a lot of time so I broke one of my life rules and ordered take-away coffee in a sippy cup. I know, dear reader, I am ashamed, but it was going to be my last real coffee for a week.

No idea, pretty and it didn't bite me.

Back on the bus, we headed for the middle of nowhere. More precisely, a fire or forestry trail in the middle of nowhere. As our guides explained, there were very few map reference points to show where we were going. The walk would take us in a rough horseshoe shape from the drop off point, through parts of the north Tarkine, back onto the forestry trail a little further south. It looked impressive on the map and in retrospect, looks even more impressive on my Strava flyover. The predicted weather was variable but it all ended in rain at some point. Well, it is a rain forest.

All set.

After final instructions and the careful placement of the food bags, we donned our packs. Before I commenced walking, I grabbed a handful of dirt and let it trickle through my fingers as I introduced myself to the Palawa Old People. I was introduced to this by an Aboriginal guide in Purnululu (the Bungle Bungles) and have continued the practice whenever walking.

The final pack.

Our packs weighed somewhere beyond 15kg but the guides were carrying much more. We left the trail for wet sclerophyll forest (see, I did pay attention in Science class in Year 10) and our first river crossing; the Arthur River. It was too deep to ford in our boots so we swapped them for sandals or reef shoes. On the other side we dried off and put our boots back on. Within half an hour they were off again to cross the Keith River.

Dave crossing the Arthur River.

Eventually we ended up back on the forestry road and had a long steep climb before we entered the rain forest proper; a cool, temperate rainforest. The sounds of birds and water across rocks were about the only sounds we heard beyond our own chatter as the group got to know each other. And then … engines. Hard to define at first, perhaps a helicopter or some 4wd vehicles in the distance.

There were hives everywhere.

Then they appeared. About four people on dirt bikes, followed by three 4wd buggies. The last contained the grandparents of the group. Nanna was swigging from a can of bourbon and coke. Allegedly. Not what we expected to see or hear out here in the Tasmanian wilderness. About 30 minutes later, they passed us again returning from whence they came, never to be sighted again.

It as we climbed the forestry trail that I began to hum The Road to Nowhere by Talking Heads from 1985. One of our group heard me and quipped that was she how she felt at the moment. We had been climbing on  the trail for some time.

Coral fungus.

It did not take long to reach the campsite after we left the trail. Awaiting us were some small tent sites and two tarps strung from the trees that would serve as shelter for the kitchen and for us to sit and chat and eat.

The first camp site.

Given the remote nature of where we were, toileting is obviously an issue. I shall explain this only once. Any tree can be a lavatory or lavatree. Ah, bush humour. For more substantial needs there was a trench away from the camp. It was limited so one needed to be mindful of usage. A spade across the path denoted occupancy.

A sight that became very familiar.

It had been a long day for everyone and the listed distance of 7km was well off target according to Strava and my Apple watch. As usual, once the sun went down, it was time for bed.

Fungi came in all shapes and colours.

Weather: humid, cloudy, no rain.

Distance covered: 13.2km

Until tomorrow.

 

Changes (Launceston, Tasmania)

Well, hello. I'm back. This time with a rainforest trek through the Tarkine in north-west Tasmania. Although we enjoyed the Tarkine experience with Trek Tours Australia last year, it was not quite what we were expecting. There is a message in that, dear reader - read the track notes before booking the experience. As you might recall we ended up in cabin accommodation, not quite the backpacking or wilderness adventure we had in mind. It was still an excellent experience, but without roughing it around camp sites.

First night's accommodation last year.

Following from that, and after discussions with Nick, one of the guides, we decided to book the Tarkine Rainforest Expedition. A full pack, 6 day camping extravaganza with a maximum of 8 participants, plus the two guides. And, as it turned out, a slightly under quoted distance to be navigated. More on that later.

Once the trek was guaranteed to go ahead, we booked our flights. Ahh, Qantas. Does anything go right with them these days? We had a briefing to attend at 3pm, the day before the walk, and, if we were fortunate, we could get there by 4pm. Otherwise it would be an extra night in Launnie to ensure we made the briefing. 

A few months after we booked the flights, Qantas changed its schedule and put all flights back an hour or so. Hence today’s title, dear reader, a David Bowie classic from 1971. This rescheduling ensured that we could not make the briefing at all. The return flight was also later which meant Dave probably wouldn’t get home until after 8pm. I was offered, and accepted, the option to cancel the flights. We then considered our next move.

Not a tent in sight. Corinna 2025.

Some months later, as we were doing the maths on the extra night in Launceston versus flight costs, Qantas offered $65 flights, which made arriving a day earlier the cost-effective option. Ultimately, we booked Virgin flights home via Melbourne to ensure we arrived in Sydney at a reasonable time.

Unsurprisingly, the flight to Launnie was late leaving but arrived on time. We caught an Uber to the hotel - a significantly cheaper choice than a taxi. That night we finally dined at the Pizza Pub with some unrestrained feral children (not ours), one of whom made deep throated guttural sounds at his sibling. The food was nothing to get excited about, but it was Friday, so pizza.

Saturday

The morning of the briefing continued the unseasonal humidity being experienced in Tassie thanks to Cyclone Narelle, despite it being firmly entrenched in the north of Australia.

In the morning, we headed to Frankie’s for excellent coffee, dear reader, and a blueberry muffin. Then we walked to Aspire, the venue for our 3pm meeting, to discuss rain jackets. I had convinced myself I needed to purchase a new one. The gear list stated a rain jacket with ‘storm flap’. My old jacket, now Dave’s, sports a storm flap, my new Quechua from Decathlon does not, although it is tri-layered and rated to 20,000mm for waterproofing.

After some discussion with the very helpful man in the shop, it was decided that storm flaps are somewhat passé and have been made redundant by the YKK zip system. It was back to the hotel to repack our gear and check the zip on my new jacket. Winner! It is a YKK. No need for another new jacket.

The 3pm rendezvous with our guides was drawing near but first, to the river! The North Esk River flows just 50m from the hotel. It was at the street’s end hidden by a substantial levee bank. The levee had a walking path set into its top and we wandered in the overly bright sun for a while. The hole in the ozone layer above Tassie ensures days of sunshine can be glaringly bright and deadly if you don’t apply sunscreen. Blackberry, a noxious weed, ran the length of this part of the river. As a pre-teen going to work with dad we would often stop and pick blackberries by the roadside. They’re in season, I said to Dave, and ran down the bank and commenced feasting on the ripe, sweet berries. Who says you need to be in the forest to forage for food? 

Photo courtesy of Dave.

We returned to Aspire just before 3pm to meet our guides, Lani and Lish, and to pick up our tent. The share of the group’s food would be added tomorrow, before the walk commenced. The group seemed quite good, although 2 people had flight issues and didn’t make it. Of the 8, there were two couples/pairs travelling together, one of which is Dave and me. The other four were solo adventurers, 3 women and a man. Interesting. Aside from the solo man (see what I did there?) everyone was from Sydney.

That night, we decided to dine at the Mersh, aka the Commercial Hotel. It was just around the corner from where we were staying and had a large menu on display outside. In hindsight, we probably should have gone inside to check it out. It had good reviews online but, well, it was old school. Old carpet, dated décor, dodgy gambling room and a hen’s party of screaming 20 something girls that invaded the quiet as we ate dinner. Despite that, the food was good and the people were lovely.

Bed time. We needed to be well rested. Tomorrow the trek begins.

Until tomorrow.