New Camera and New Friends

The new DSLR makes selfies harder.

After the sad death of my camera on my last outdoors adventure, I went out and bought myself my very first real exchangeable lens DSLR (Canon EOS Rebel T6i/750D for camera gearheads).

Last weekend, the camera made its first trip into the bush as I hiked the 45km long Six Foot Track over a couple of days with a group of new friends.

The Cast

I was invited along by Anna, a good friend who is also an outdoor adventurer. She had a trip planned with two Brits and a couple of New Zealanders - making us a pretty eclectic mix of ex-pats. Most of the group were new to trail names, but the girls all found themselves with one by the end.  You can see from this group photo that I'm still getting used to the camera.

Anna (Gollum), Nigel, Krissy (Necky), Kirsten (Gnomey), and Mack

The Hike

For those not into the local bushwalking scene, the Six Foot Track is a 45 km "trail" that is probably most famous for the annual Six Foot Track Marathon race. It's one of those trails that everyone does at some point, and so this was our turn. As it turns out, the Six Foot Track really ought to be called the Never Ending Dirt Road. It felt like we spent half a day hiking in the woods, and a day and a half walking along a dirt fire trail - shared with trucks, cars, and dirt bikes. I wouldn't rate it highly for the walking.

On the plus side we did end up with some good wildlife. In addition to the usual array of kangaroos, wallabies, and lorikeets, we saw two echidna, a wombat, a lyrebird, and a large goanna. Sadly, I have still not ticked koala off of my list of Australian fauna seen in the wild. Next time, I guess.

Goanna gettin' hisself some eggs

Kangaroo. Tree. Harmony.

There is also a long suspension bridge at around the midway point which made for a bit of fun.

Necky did not hate the suspension bridge.

Trail Philosophy

Every hiker has their own approach to being on trail. After doing the AT, my style now leans heavily towards "minimalist self-deprivation." I also lean towards "camp is the place you stay while you wait to walk again." This is not a common hiking philosophy. The 6' Track crew was keen to get to camp early to have lots of time there. They also had a very different meal philosophy - where I happily dine on a diet of cliff bars and peanut butter wraps for a few days, our meal plan for this weekend included:

• fresh wraps with lettuce, tomato, cucumber, avocado, cheese, and deli meats for lunches; 
• mushroom risotto, banana custard, and a bit of port for dinner; 
• and coffee, tea, eggs, bacon, and toast for breakfast.

All of that was made with fresh ingredients, from scratch. Mack is a killer trail cook. Mack also made me carry a lot of food. I have mixed feelings about Mack. (But then, I've made a conscious decision to carry rocks for nothing in the past, so I suppose I won't hold this grudge.)

Trail cook extraordinaire.
Also an all around delightful guy.

Besides the gourmet food, it was rather nice to have some real time hanging out at camp. I even managed to redeem myself as a fire builder after the fiasco of my last attempt in Australia. I didn't even have to resort to accelerants.

Nigel takes a moment out from wombat spotting
to look very British on some logs.

Most of the highlights of the trip involved a lot of conversation, laughter and inside jokes. Unfortunately, those are difficult to convey here. Here's a picture of Necky trying to explain to Gollum what a meerkat is, for a flavour of the sort of thing:

If only the Italian word for meerkat was "meerkat",
this would have been much easier.

All in all, the hike was a great time. The trail itself was forgettable, but as is often the case in these things, the people made all the difference. I guess that's a good general life lesson: visit beautiful places, but most importantly, bring beautiful people.

Gnomey proves that even walking on a dirt road
can be fun with the right companions

Happy Trails!

(More photos taken with my shiny new toy here)

Old Camera and Old Friends

This post is a bit delayed, since the trip took place shortly before I had to pack up my life and move it around the world again. Now that I'm settled in, I have a few minutes to recap it.

The trip

Some of you will recall that around a year ago I had some friends visit me on the AT and take me to NYC. Well those same friends are also fans of the camping life, so while I was in Canada for the summer we decided to squeeze a four day canoe trip on Lake Opeongo in Algonquin Park into our schedules. (My schedule was easily squeezed - the others have jobs.)

The plan was to canoe 10-12kms out to a campsite on an island, set up there, camp/paddle and eat for a few days before paddling back to the cars. A little like creating our own version of Upper Goose Pond in Massachusetts.

The best part was that only half of us were paddling to the campsite - the rest were taking an outfitter's ferry. Such luxuries meant that we could bring a lot more gear and food, and have a bit more of a glamping experience. Which we did. In spades.

Day 1 - Getting to camp

Maple paddles like a champ.

Maple was new to backcountry canoeing, so we headed off to learn a little about shoulder strength. It was a fun, challenging paddle, including a moment when we discovered that we'd set off without a map of the lake, so had to rely on my memory for navigation.

I'm not really great at navigation with a compass and a map in hand, let alone having both of those things only in my brain. Fortunately for us, my memory worked really well when assisted (read, supplanted) by the Google maps I'd downloaded to my phone, so we still found our way to the campsite. On the way we were harassed by a large group of seagulls who thought we were being a bit cheeky paddling so close to their chicks in the water. In our defense, we didn't even notice the chicks until we were practically on top of them. The seagulls did not seem particularly interested in our excuses.

We arrived just in time to make camp, and begin what ended up as an epic multi-course meal prepped by Mike and Nettie. There really are some times when glamping is the way to go.

Day 2 - Goodnight sweet prints.

Friday morning it was clear that the forecasted rains were not going to pass us by. Most of the crew decided this was a perfect excuse to do not much of anything at all except sit at camp, read, nap, and otherwise just be happy not to be at the office.

Yours truly is not that wise.

I decided I'd grab a canoe and go for a paddle. Bundled up in waterproof wear I headed off into the light mist on a serene lake to enjoy the quiet (not many make their way out in this weather), and generally just be glad to be on a lake again. I took a few shots, some of which even turned out reasonably nicely and was feeling pretty good about myself.

Then I happened on an island where the water was so calm and still that it made for a nearly perfect mirror so I decided to find a good spot to turn the canoe sideways and take a picture that in my head would end up something like this:

Just as I turned myself into position to take the shot, and without any warning, I found myself in the lake frantically trying to get back to the surface.  I'm still not sure exactly how it happened - I mean, in the image to the right, you can see how glassy and calm the water is. It's unlikely that a sudden swell pushed me over. 

As I floated at the surface trying to don my PFD, I thought I must have leaned out too far to take the picture. That made a lot of sense until I realised that my camera was still in my zipped pocket which meant I hadn't gotten anywhere near that point in the process. Fortunately it also meant that I hadn't dropped the camera to the bottom of the lake, so I might still salvage photos from the memory card - though the camera was clearly now an ex-camera.

I didn't have a lot of time to think about these things though, while floating alone in the middle of a large lake. My thoughts turned to getting back into the canoe somehow. It was a long two-person canoe, so self-rescuing was going to be a tall task. Instead of burning a lot of energy that way, I swam it to the shore of the island. There a couple of young guys camping took time out of updating their instagram accounts with photos of this idiot who'd tipped his canoe on the calmest day in history to help me right the canoe and set out again.

In the background of this shot of our accompanying pupper (taken by Chantelle), you can see me returning to our camp as a drowned rat.

Hershey looks at the camera, probably wondering why I'm so wet.

Day 3 - Short excursion

Day 3 was relatively uneventful. Maple and I took a canoe ride out a few kms to a trailhead, hiked in to find the small deer pond that definitely wasn't worth the mosquitoes, and then headed back for camp. The rest of the day was just chilling out at the campsite now that the rains had passed.

Day 4 - Hershey starts to make sense.

Immediately on Day 1, Colin and Chantelle's dog had developed a couple of peculiar behaviours at the campsite. The first was a desperate dislike of the area near the fire pit. Hershey hated this place so much that when playing fetch she would run across the tent-flies around the outside of it rather than through the wide open space. Even if we placed the ball in the area, and tried to entice her with food, she'd look at us like we must be insane to be standing in what was so clearly the world's most terrifying 3 m².

She would also get uncharacteristically upset if anyone left the campsite, particularly as it got darker. And particularly if that person was Maple, who happened to be the smallest of the party.

On Day 4, Mike figured out why. While using the thunder box early in the morning, he saw something like a large cat scurry up a tree. He didn't get enough of a look to identify it (lynx or bobcat?), but now we reckon that it had sprayed near the fire and that Hershey could hear it going about at night so knew that the forest held dangers of which we were unaware.

The lesson here is, when your accompanying dog tells you a place is unsafe, don't ignore the pupper.

Luckily for us, this was our departure day allowing us to escape without any more dangerous big cat encounters. Maple had decided that she was done with canoeing so Colin agreed to paddle back with me while Maple would ride with Dave and Rebecca as a third in their canoe.

Epilogue

If I summarize the trip for people, I say "we accidentally camped on a lynx's home turf, and I lost my camera in a near drowning incident. So it was a pretty awesome weekend."

And on the way home I had an email confirming that my Australian work visa had come through, so it was now official: Wallaby was going home.

In which Wallaby heads home (part 2)

While I was travelling in Sydney, I'd been expecting the city to feel like home. I was surprised when it didn't particularly feel like a homecoming.

I was even more surprised when being in my tent in the woods did feel like home. Apparently I'm now most at home when homeless.

Air mattress update:

It turns out my air mattress is still leaking, but slowly enough that I was able to get lots of good rest. I did wake up needing to reinflate it twice. I think I may be forced to replace it, but for now it still works.

(I know. Boring story. Most of hiking is about minutiae, really.)

Day 2

Day 2 opened with a beautiful sunrise over Pigeon House (I think) in the distance.

Sunrise over Pigeon House

[Ed Note: I have confirmed the Pigeon House sighting.]

I sat and quietly watched the sun come up for a bit and then broke camp, had breakfast, replenished my water, and headed off for the day's hike. Originally, I didn't think a 10-15km hike would be that bad, but after the trail yesterday I was now a lot more concerned about the clock. If today's trail was as challenging, I was going to be in trouble.

In the end, the hike was considerably friendlier (though still a good trek). And the rewards were well worth the effort: The Nibellung Pass and the deep, dark, lush vegetation was amazing.

A little more work than
your typical stroll

Hard to believe what can grow
in the dark

Lush green. It was too dark to really
get good pictures in the depths.

From the dark wet valleys, I'd come up to what felt like dry ridges, but was really the Monolith Valley corridor between Mount Cole and the Seven Pinnacles. It was truly spectacular. Unfortunately my camera seems to have had enough of my adventures so the photos aren't coming out as well as I'd have liked.

Monolith Valley

A quick shower to cool down

I had planned to walk around Mount Cole and climb over through a small ravine between Mounts Cole and Owen, but as I approached the entry point to the ravine, the clock started ticking in my head. The access looked passable, but I couldn't tell from below how technical it would be, and I knew if I was going to retrace my steps I needed to do so right away. I'm not usually one to take the easy way, but hiking alone in an unfamiliar area, and knowing that the last 7k of trail was going to be challenging, I decided not to risk the climb.

Besides, I'd enjoyed the Seven Pinnacles and the Nibellung pass so much that I was happy to experience it again.

Final verdict: It felt really good to be back on a trail again. I really wish I could have made it a three day hike though, especially after reading this report.

GPS trail info: Cooyoyo - Mount Cole - The Castle, The Castle - Long Gully Campground

In which Wallaby heads home (part 1)

After months of being off the trail, and recently seeing both Trout and Foggy start their PCT journeys, I've been absolutely itching to get back into the woods. Conveniently, I've also found myself in Australia visiting friends again for three weeks. This meant time for a little bit of a bushwalk in NSW for possibly the last time.

Me, showing off

Years ago a fellow Sydney Bushwalkers Club member (also Canadian) had told me that the Castle Track and around through the Monolith Valley was one of the best hikes he'd ever done here. It had always been on my list to try and get to it, so I figured this was as good a chance as was ever likely to come along. Sadly, Pouch has retired to my parents' basement, so I sewed the proof of my hiker credentials onto my smaller pack, borrowed a friend's mum's car, and set out for Morton National Park and the Budawangs.

Things I was about to try out:

1. no cook hiking: with only a 32L pack, space is at a premium so instead of bringing a stove and fuel, I thought I'd save some real estate and try eating only cold food.
2. the patch on my mattress: Near the end of the AT, my mattress had sprung a slow leak. A few weeks ago I patched it, but still hadn't had time to test it out.

Originally I'd planned for three days, but heavy rains on the first day forced me to shorten the trek to two days. The goal was to drive the 4 hours to the trailhead, and then make my way 7km to the Cooyoyo Creek camping area, possibly summitting The Castle on the way. The next day, I'd hike out through the Monolith Valley, past the Seven Pinnacles, circle around Mount Cole and cross through between Cole and Mount Owen, then make my way back along the Castle Track to the car. This would be around 15-20km.

Day 1

For day 1, I figured 7km was no more than 2.5 hours of hiking, so this should be easy.

I was wrong. 

The Castle Track, while not particularly difficult, is slow going. It's a long steady uphill with narrow track, tonnes of roots and rocks to scramble over, and lots of false tracks to lead a wallaby astray. It took me a solid 4 hours to get to the campground - partly because it was slow going, and partly because I'd assumed it would be faster so I wasn't pushing it. By the time I got there, I was worried about getting up to The Castle and back before dark. I knew there were some more treacherous climbs, and am not a fan of descending rock scrambles in the dark.

There were, however, some nice rewards along the way.

I think that's Pigeon House in the distance, but it's not on my map, so I can't be sure.

Sometimes nature tells you its time to take a shower.

Near camp, I met a group of hikers who were planning to go watch the sunset from the Castle. This seemed like a brilliant idea. We could go up without packs, and the track back to the campground was easy to follow, so hiking in the dark wouldn't be so bad.

Wrong again. It turns out that trying to summit The Castle from the east side requires a very steep, difficult rock climb without ropes. I'm not the most agile of climbers, but one of the girls was obviously very strong (and she recognized my AT patch!). When she decided it wasn't safe, we all abandoned the cause and headed back to camp. If time permitted, I figured I'd attempt it again from the west side on my way back the next day.

One of the things that I'd thought after hiking the AT was that cooking meals was unnecessary for the most part. You never go more than 4 days without hitting town, so you can get hot meals pretty regularly. Going a few days without one didn't seem like it would be that difficult (at least during the warmer months). In cold weather, or for longer sections (say the 100 Mile Wilderness), it might be tougher. But for a quick two day hike in warmer temperatures, I really didn't miss a hot meal at all.

... in which Wallaby proves that thru-hiking the AT does not require skill.

It was now about 6pm, and dark (it's autumn here). With a lot of hours to kill, a fire seemed in order - and it would have been. Except that I had forgotten to buy a lighter. And I hadn't brought my flint. And I only had one, broken, storm match left in my emergency kit.

So it's 6pm in the dark, and I have exactly one chance at making a fire after a heavy rainfall. People think that if you've done a lot of hiking like the AT, you must be skilled. This is not true. AT thru-hikers are merely persistent. On the AT, you rarely make fires, or do anything that actually requires a learned skill. I met many, many thru-hikers who didn't know any knots, or how to make a fire, or how to navigate/trap food/find water/etc... We are not survivalists.

So here I am with only one match and wet fire making materials. Suffice to say that the light breeze rapidly did away with the small flicker of a flame that I was able to make.

So now it's 6pm, dark, and I have no chance of making a fire. I supposed this meant it was time to go test the mattress.

(Part 2 to follow)

Day +a lot - Reflection (27/1/2017)

So, I'd been struggling to figure out how to wrap this whole thing up.

Luckily for me, so has Cinderella. Even more luckily for me, she figured it out first, and so perfectly articulates my feelings months later, that I'm not going to bore anyone with my version.

Go read this. The details might be a bit different (I wanted to quit a lot sooner, and cried less but probably swore more), but the general sentiment is pretty much exactly how I feel now, 56 days on.