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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| Fungi came in all shapes and colours. |
Weather: humid, cloudy, no rain.
Distance covered: 13.2km
Until tomorrow.
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