(Editor’s Note: Waitsfield adventurers Shevonne and Pat Travers are in Australia hiking the Great North Walk, sending dispatches home to The Valley Reporter. This is their second report.)
Pat and I have now hiked through 45.5 treacherous miles of the Great North Walk. This walk is much more challenging than the Long Trail; repeatedly it winds steeply downhill to creek beds and then back up on steep ascents to the bluebird skies. There are multiple rock stairs one could tumble down and because of the recent drenching rain, we have been challenged by water crossings; several required Pat either reaching his arm or his hiking pole across to pull me to the other side.
We’ve hiked for six days without our backpacks; if we hadn’t figured that out, we’d probably be stuck between tight rock walls someplace waiting for a rescue. Yesterday a snake, holding court with some kind of bird, slithered down the tree they were conveniently sharing 15 feet upward when he heard us coming. We’d no idea snakes climbed trees or liked birds; this one was at least 6 feet long.
Our second day was a breeze; we easily trekked 11 miles. On day three, dressed from head to toe, in our rain gear, we followed a river, waded through one stream but then couldn’t find any safe crossing over the second stream and retraced our steps.
On day four, we hurried to the train station in the chilly downpour and traveled to Hornsby. We dropped our backpacks at the Blue Gum Motel/Pub and an Uber driver took us to the bottom of the Galston Gorge on circuitous roads. Little did I know what was ahead (though I believe Pat did and kept his mouth shut). After crawling up and stepping on multiple metal rungs on precipitous wet sandstone rocks, we had to grasp onto foot holds and a fence to pull us to the gorge’s top.
By mid-day the rain disappeared; we hiked mile after mile, until we reached Hornsby by foot. We certainly underestimated how many miles we can do; each mile takes us about 45 minutes. The bush is filled with a burst of wildflowers; many tree trunks, look to me, like the feet of Sasquatch. The white trunks and branches of the eucalyptus trees stretch out like long gloved fingers.
On day five, after good food and brews the previous evening, we called for an Uber to return once again to the bottom of the Galston Gorge. We now had to trek from the other side. The driver shook his head; he’s a hiker. “Why would you attempt this trail? You should have called me. There are much better hiking trails, especially in Tasmania.” Though there were no extreme climbs, I was filled with anxiety because of the multiple creek crossings on slick rocks. The worst was when we had to cross the stream over the top of a waterfall. If either of us slipped, I wouldn’t be writing this article. After completing the day’s trek, it was back to the Blue Gum for the night to celebrate our anniversary.
On day six, with our backpacks, we caught the train to Brooklyn on the Hawkesbury River in the early morning. Again, we dropped our packs at a motel, and caught the train back to Cowan. This part of the trail began at the top of a ridge and we descended over several miles to Jerusalem Bay. On the way back up from the bay, we ran into two hearty-looking guys with full packs who reported camping overnight and then partying in Brooklyn. We wondered how they found their way back up the steep management roads in the twilight.
We popped into the bar at the Angler’s Rest and were over the moon because they had Toohey’s Old, a dark beer, on tap. It’s our new best brew. The band, with members, our age, or older, played classic rock songs, and a few people danced to the tunes. Our room, above the bar, was fairly noisy but that didn’t matter to me; I quickly fell out.
Day seven was a race of sorts. The goal was to pack up our backpacks, move them to the motel across the street, grab a decent breakfast, and catch the train back to Cowan, which only runs once an hour. We successfully moved our packs, grabbed an omelet and coffee and caught the train We then hiked another 8.5 miles to Berowra.
The hike to Berowra Waters was arduous; full of steep descents over rocks. Four hours later, 5 miles in, at the water’s edge, we discovered house boats, a sea plane and large cabin cruisers. A cable-operated ferry can haul a few vehicles. Unbelievably, we also found an Italian restaurant and splurged on fried prawns, buffalo mozzarella with pesto and tomatoes and some kind of Italian bread with black truffle butter. This was a highlight, given that we usually eat a few slices of cheese and salami at lunch on the trail.
No alcohol for us, as we had four more miles of hiking but we did chase down Italian colas, which were cherry red. And regardless of this oasis in the bush, as we attacked our last ascent of 4 more miles up to the train station, we were quickly parched but our stride was much improved. And now for a day to chill.
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