Keeping Calm and Carrying On

The first sign that you're starting to panic is you hear yourself say:
"OK, man, don't panic." 

One of my favourite things to do in the woods is to visit places no one else does. Places where there are no mapped tracks, and where most people don't even consider going.

But sometimes things don't go to plan.

The Hike (Planned)

The Megalong Valley is a gorgeous area of the Blue Mountains near Sydney that has the shallow meandering Coxs River flowing through it, lots of grazing farms, and hills and mountains on all sides. It's very peaceful, and teeming with interesting wildlife - lyrebirds and goannas in particular.

Years ago, I'd done a short hike in part of it with the Sydney Bushwalkers Club, which involved some off-track walking and some stunning views. We also passed through part of the valley while doing the Six Foot Track last year.

This weekend I thought I'd go back again and look at a different section - the plan was to follow a track part way up to Ironpot Mountain, then pick my way down a spur into a little-known track along a waterway called Breakfast Creek. Follow that to Coxs River for lunch, wander the river a bit, then climb back up over Goolara Peak to Tinpot Mountain and take the ridges back to my car (Clockwise around the blue track, roughly).

The planned track (in blue), and the actual track detours (in red)

The Hike (Reality)

Everything went smoothly until lunch. The descent was steep but largely manageable. Breakfast Creek was mostly dry but a nice place to walk and seems to be where all the lyrebirds go. I think I counted eight, which is seven more than I had seen in my entire life to that point (no photos - the little buggers are very shy). Shortly after lunch I startled a good size Lace Monitor up a tree, and got a nice pic of it camouflaged while it hissed and growled at me in irritation.

This creature was very hissy about me
mucking about with my camera

Danger, Will Robinson

Then came time to go back off-track and explore Goolara Peak and the saddle to Tinpot. After doing the very hard climb from Coxs River, I discovered that Goolara Peak is not so much a mountain as it is a pile of extremely large rocks on top of a hill surrounded on all sides by cliff face. From where I was sitting, I couldn't see a way up or around without some very risky exposure. Worse, I had no idea what the peak looked like on the other side. Even if I could pick my way up to the top, I might not be able to get down.

The alternative wasn't much better. It's always less scary to go up than down, and as I looked back over my route I did not relish climbing back down this incredibly steep hill full of loose dirt and rock. On the other hand, I at least knew that there was an alternate route back to my car that was passable since it was the one we'd used in 2014 (Red track in the image).

Besides the difficult descent, also arguing against that option was that the day was getting on and sunset was coming. Since I would be well off-track for my backup option, this could mean that I would be navigating by map and compass.

Alone.
After dark.

Navigating by map and compass during the day takes a fair amount of brain power, but at least you can see the ground while you walk and make out features of the terrain around you. Doing it in darkness, while exhausted and alone is a bad mix.

In the best case scenario, the wrong decision could lead to a helicopter ride from search and rescue. The worst case scenario is disappearing in the Blue Mountains, never to be seen or heard from again.

So my choices were a) try and climb the rocks and hope there was a way down the other side, or b) race the sun and hope not to get lost in the forest at night.

"OK, man. Don't panic."

My main goal was not to end up like this ex-cow
from the walk several years ago.

Racing the Sun

I figured I'd rather chance a night in the forest than find myself falling off a rock and ending up in a truly bad place. There was still some daylight, so I had a good chance of getting close to the car. I had some extra clothes and food. The river could give me water. It wouldn't be pleasant, but I could get through the night if it came to that. So I started the climb downhill. Or the slide down the hill. It was just as hard as I expected it would be. For the last few hundred metres I was clinging to trees to lower myself without tumbling.

When I finally hit the river, my adrenaline was pumping and I race-hiked to the entry point for my alternate climb to Tinpot Mountain. Before setting out on the climb, I filtered a litre of water into my Camelbak and packed out another 3/4L of dirty water in case I needed it later. At this point, between the mental stress and the massive amount of off-track climbing and descending I'd already done, my body was exhausted.

Every moment of the climb to Tinpot was accompanied by an inner monologue of "Just get to the top of the mountain before sunset, so that we're only navigating ridges." The reply from my body with every step: "You will pay for this."  The bribe came next: "We'll eat the leftover tomato from lunch when we get to the top. I promise."

I made the mountain top with daylight to spare. This was when my brain reneged on the deal.

Brain: "I know I said we'd rest now, but we can't waste daylight. Keep walking until dark, then we'll eat and rest."
Body: "I hate you. So much."
Brain: "I hear you, and I acknowledge your feelings. Shut up and walk."

Each hill was excruciating, and I would decide I had to rest at the top. Then the terrain would ease up and I'd check my bearing for the next saddle and walk on until I hit the next climb. It would be excruciating. It felt like I repeated this a thousand times, but my map tells me it couldn't have been more than two or three.

Then I couldn't anymore. I just couldn't.

The Mind Body Dichotomy

I don't think there was a single one of the 140 days of hiking the AT where I was this tired. As I was climbing the peak to Ironpot Mountain I hit a small track. A small track that was contouring around the peak instead of climbing up to it. My legs stayed on the track. No matter what my brain said, I could not get my body to do what was clearly the smarter choice.

Brain: "We need to climb. This track may not be going to the right place."
Body: "This is flat. It may be going to the right place."
Brain: "It's getting dark, we don't have a choice, we have to climb and be sure."
Body: "If you make me climb now, I am going to kill you."
Brain: "I hear you, and I acknow..."
Body: "#!?$@ you."

We - my brain and body are separate entities now - contoured until we hit what looked like it might be a saddle! Or a spur. But maybe a saddle?

Brain: "I think that's a spur. Turn back and climb to the peak."
Body: "It might be the saddle!"
Brain: "I really think that's a spur. Stop so we don't go too far!"
Body: "Did you say Stop?!?! Done."

A quick check of the GPS coordinates confirmed that Brain was right. It was a spur. I was moments from darkness and instead of heading to the car I had circled around to a track that was heading downhill back to the valley. I'd gone out of my way at a bad time, but there was a silver lining: I was done with map and compass! In the uphill direction, this track is easily followed back over Ironpot mountain and leads directly to my car where a large bottle of sparkling water and two apples were sitting in a cooler. I was still going to be hiking out by headlamp in darkness, but at least I wouldn't need to navigate while I did it.

Other than startling a few kangaroos with my headlamp, I finished my hike with no other excitement.  I gleefully dumped the extra dirty water I'd packed out and drank a litre of cold sparkling mineral water. My plan for around 18-20km in a relatively leisurely 6-8hours, ended up as 29km in a much less relaxed 9.5 hrs.

Some things I learned.

1. Don't panic, even if you're panicking.
2. Exhaustion really does lead to bad decision-making.
3. Even when your brain is making good decisions, you need your body on the same team.
4. Always pack a jumper and rain jacket for warmth. No matter how nice the day is. Just in case.
5. A compass that allows you to fix the correction for declination and saves you having to do arithmetic is worth every extra penny.

In the end, I didn't need search and rescue (or worse). One day I'll head to Goolara Peak from the Tinpot Mountain side, and see what it looks like just for fun. Also I'm really happy to finally get a good shot of a goanna, so it was worth it.

And I discovered a neat "Make Your Own Gear" trick:

I made a tripod out of my
(adapted) poles and a stick

Photo Gear Test

One of the things I always regretted a little bit about my AT hike was that I didn't have good camera with me. Like most hikers, I relied mostly on the camera in my phone which led to some decent shots but mostly pretty low quality stuff - particularly in the low light that often makes for the most beautiful images.

After that trip, I'd decided I would find a way to bring some quality gear with me on hiking treks to give myself better options. A couple of weeks ago, a friend invited me to join a group on a 30km (18mile) hike along the coast in New South Wales (The Coast Track, in the Royal National Park). This seemed like just the excuse I needed to buy some stuff and see what works. Discussion of the gear follows these pics.


For the gear heads, I have a Canon T6i (750D) DSLR with the standard kit lens (18-55mm). At some point I want a wider range zoom, and either a wide-angle prime lens or a portrait prime lens (I'll decide when I figure out what kinds of photos I tend to take more).  Before upgrading the lens, I wanted to figure out ways to carry stuff, so the first two things I wanted was a way to pack camera gear into a bag, and a way to carry the camera around that would keep it secured but also very accessible. I don't want to have to open my bag every time I want to take a shot, and I also don't want to have it dangling around my neck swinging while I walk.

Storage

f-stop's Small Shallow ICU

For the last hike along the Six Foot Track, I had a standard Lowepro bag. It's great for wandering cities and day-to-day, but I could never really get it to be convenient with a pack and poles. I'm not looking to carry a full pro rig or anything, so I settled on f-stop's small shallow ICU insert.  It's still too big for what I own but down the road I'll want to have spare batteries and a charger, filters, memory cards, and probably two lenses.

In the end I didn't really make much use of the insert except on the way to and from the track. The weather was beautiful and dry, and the track has no really technical bits. There were some beach walks where sand concerned me a bit, but never enough to make me hide the camera. I'll have to report back after I've taken it on a longer hike where I need to hide the camera more often (rock scrambles and weather), or have access to more options.

Accessibility

Doubles as a perfect bracket
for shooting your feet.

On the Six Foot, I had to constantly open my Lowepro bag and take the camera out whenever I wanted a shot, then return it to the bag when I was ready to walk again. For this trek, I picked up a Capture Clip from Peak Design. This clip attaches to your shoulder strap and allows you to suspend the camera (lens down) from the pack directly at chest level. A little release button is all it takes to pop the camera up and start shooting.

I loved it! The camera was always either in my hands or on the clip. It was super quick and easy to go from hands free to shooting. I did have to be a bit more cautious when putting the bag down, but that wasn't hard to remember since the camera was in my face.

Stability

Is that an MYOG monopod in your pocket,
 or...?

One final problem I need to solve is how to get a tripod without carrying a tripod. As a hiker, I generally dislike carrying anything that has only one purpose if I can avoid it, and a tripod does not have many other uses. I had seen some people talking about turning their trekking poles into monopods as a compromise. This also had the added appeal of being my very first make-your-own-gear project! I ran off to the local hardware store and picked up a small 1/4" thread bolt and two matching nuts, along with some epoxy. Half an hour with a drill and I had what I needed - thread the camera onto the protruding bolt at the top of the pole et voilà: Monopod! I was surprised at just how strong it was - most people are using them with small point-and-shoots, not DSLRs. My camera was solidly attached.

Cost: $4.

It was a very bright day, so there was no call for a monopod. I tried to force it a bit but any time I used a slow shutter speed, the shot came out badly overexposed. My sense was that the poles I'm currently using (Black Diamond adjustable poles) don't really provide the stability that I'd need with a heavier camera. I'll have to test it more fully when I get a better opportunity. I also don't love that I have to remove the Capture Clip baseplate before affixing the monopod. If this is going to work as a monopod, I might invest in some sort of mount for the top of the pole to avoid that minor irritant.

In the end the Capture Clip is my favourite thing ever, and I'm pretty sure the f-stop insert will be just right for my purposes. The monopod is still a work in progress. But gear aside, I had a great walk with a really eclectic mix of people (we were 17, including a Swedish former tennis pro, an American teaching English in Hong Kong, and a Welsh doctor).

For more of my photos, look at the following:

• @serjepedia: I'm least picky about photos on Instagram. Pretty much anything could end up here, but usually only one or two related to any event. More of a "this is what I did today" thing than a photography thing.
• Flickr/dimthoughts: Most of my good shots end up here. Lots of pics othat are good, but probably not of interest to people who don't know me or weren't involved in the events. The amount of post-processing varies a lot.
• 500px/kryptych: My best stuff goes here, usually after some more serious time in Lightroom/Photoshop. So if you want a small set of more highly curated photos, this is the place to go.

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 109 - From Darkness Into Darkness (18/10/2016)

I started hiking in the dark again today. I'm liking the early morning starts. It makes it easy to get a good day in before the end of the daylight, so I don't have to cook in the dark. Also saw another owl.

That said, hiking in the dark (morning or night) requires a headlamp. Which I appear to have left on a rock somewhere in Shenandoah National Park. Fortunately I only have to get to Thursday without it, when I'll overnight in Waynesboro, Virginia. In the meantime, I guess I'm forced to sleep in a bit, because breaking camp in the dark is a great way to forget more things.

Start: Bald Mountain

End: Loft Mountain

Distance: 20.8 miles

Day 72 - Kent (11/9/2016)

This morning started with a thunderstorm and a short walk into Kent, CT. I ended up there for a long time, so it's now late. Here are the bullet points:

• Walked two miles into Kent, the richest town I've ever seen. I walked past Kent School whose tuition is probably more than I've ever earned in a year.
• Rich kids are everywhere.
• I bought new socks and a pair of Crocs!
• I found Eskimo!!!! He's back on trail after a short, giardia-induced break
• There were some beautiful views of sunsets.
• I camped on a beach after a few hours of night hiking!

Start: Skiff Mtn Rd.

End: Ten Mile River

Distance: 11.5 miles

Day 71 - My Kingdom for a Glass of Water (10/9/2016)

Another morning where putting the pack on hurt. A bit of rain made the morning temperatures bearable, but I fell hard for the first time since New Hampshire, Pouch's rain cover is now torn, and the tip on one of my trekking poles is broken. I've been walking in the same socks for 6 straight days, lost one of my camp shoes, and messed things up so I won't be able to make my next maildrop. The rain also didn't last and we were back to hot, humid, and water-less. To try and help stay comfortable I spent most of the afternoon walking in just my underwear. I still ran out of water before coming on a really sad source where I fought frogs for access. I called it a day and camped down there.

I have to say that the best parts of the last few weeks of hiking have been the days I wasn't hiking. I'm not sure how much more drought I can [or want to] endure. No one who attempted the Connecticut challenge today made it.

Start: Pine Swamp Brook
End: Skiff Mtn Road
Distance: 14.2 miles

Days 45 and 46 - Hanover your gear! (15-16/8/2016)

I arrived in Hanover, went to the post office and discovered that my bounce box is missing. My bounce box holds the next map I need, most of my guide for the trail, cables and such for charging my watch and camera, clothes for town, one of my notebooks, and some other stuff that I'd really prefer to have.

So the last two days have been mostly preoccupied with food and finding my mailbox. So far, no one has any idea where the mail might be. I will say, though, that the USPS staff have been extremely generous with their time and energy. With any luck, it'll turn up soon.

Hanover, NH is easily the most hiker friendly town I've ever been too. One pizza place gives every thru-hiker a free slice of pizza, another bakery gives us a free donut or muffin. There's a community centre that will let you store your pack for the day, and offers cheap showers and laundry. There aren't many hostels, but the local college keeps a list of people who are willing to host hikers (trail angels). It's a busy time, so it took me a while to find someone with space but last night I stayed with the priest at an episcopal church just across the state line in Norwich, Vermont. This means that I've officially passed the 20% mark!

The minister also has a puppy, who woke me up this morning by a) licking my face, and b) stealing my cheese. I got up, had coffee, and joined the minister and her puppy on their morning park visit. God I love dogs.

My attempt to hold my feet together...

There's also some very good options for outfitters, so I've been able to replace my shoes, buy a new shirt, get a map to replace the one in my bounce box, and replace Pouch's rain cover!

I wasn't planning to zero here, but since I'm waiting on news about my mail I'll have to. I could do worse - there are some really nice places for food and drink here, and I haven't had time to try them all yet.

Start: um. Mile 425 or so.
End: Norwich, VT (though to be fair, I took a bus from Hanover to Norwich)
Distance: 18.3 miles

Day 43 - I'm wet! I'm wet and I'm hysterical! (13/8/2016)

The sugar shack was fun, it was nice to be sheltered from the torrential rains that hit in the early evening, and Pete had a pretty cool life story but in the end I probably should have skipped it in favour of some miles. I was (once again) reminded that I don't like shared sleeping arrangements. Late revellers, a couple "caring about each other deeply", and repeated intrusions by people looking for space to set up for the night meant that I didn't get much sleep.

As usual, that meant I was cranky when I woke. A situation not improved by the discovery that both the water and electricity were knocked out by the storms, so there would be no eggs and pancakes for breakfast.

The situation was further not improved by the thunderstorms that came while I was walking. Camping wet probably has some charms, but I have trouble seeing them today. Fortunately I'm not far from Hanover where it will be time for some serious gear shopping - my t-shirt is torn in several places, and my shoes have finally given up.

On a more positive note, the terrain has gotten friendlier making bigger miles easier. Also, the maté tea that my parents sent was amazing! I can't wait to make more.

Start: NH25A (near mile 408.5)
End: Around the 425 mile mark
Distance: 16.5 miles

Day 29 - out of the frying pan (30/7/2016)

This morning started with the discovery that the soft Platypus 1L container I'd been using to store my birthday whisky had sprung a leak. This left me with two choices: dump the whiskey, or... the thing I did instead.

As it turns out, being (mildly) drunk for most of a hard day makes it tough to cover 14+ miles. Still enjoyed the views though and... got through Maine! One state down, Thirteen to go.

At camp I met Bearfoot, a neurosurgeon who got his name when a small bear poked at his foot while he was sleeping, and his brother Klaus. I may see them again in a few days when they go do a section of the white mountains that they had to skip for weather. ‎

Start: Mahoosuc Notch South (Maine!)

End: Gentian Pond (New Hampshire!)

Distance 11.2 miles (not 15 miles)‎

Day 12 - the better kind of weight loss (13/7/2016)

Back on the trail after the good rest. My base weight is down 12 lbs (5kg) after the hostel owner did a shakedown of my pack. (My bank balance is also lighter...)

The lighter pack and friendly terrain meant nearly 3miles/hr which is not much slower than my city walking pace! Originally planned to just do 9 miles, but I hit my destination before 3pm so it was decision time - press on for another 9 miles, or accept that I'll have covered only 16 miles in 3 days.

There was a note from Trout in the register hoping I'd catch him soon, which felt nice to read. :)

Not So Bad (an American wearing a Canadian Tire hat) showed up and convinced me to press on. There was a river ford coming up in 3 miles and usually that offers a campsite, even if it's not official. I decided to try my luck - if the gamble paid off I'd bed down at 12 miles, otherwise it'd be a long day.

The gamble paid off. Now I'm trying to use my ultralight alcohol stove. Here's a tip for all you kids out there: stay in school, but also make sure the guy who sells you a new style of stove teaches you how to use it *before* you get hungry.

In the end, beef ramen with some chili spice mix (a hiker box score!) makes for a nice meal.

Start: Monson (ME 15)
End: West Branch Pistataquis River
Distance: 12 miles (19km)