Overland Track Chronicles Part 2: Freaking Out

As the hike approached, I was starting to get a little freaked out. It was the little things that began pushing me over the edge: the sad dopey smiles when I mentioned the hike to locals or off-hand comments such as "Brave man, this time of year." "For your poor mother's sake, be sure to register the hike and tell lots of people you are going!"

By the time I reached Launceston, my anxiety level was at a valium prescription levels. I checked into my room at the hostel, room 13 (dunh dunh duh), and started packing all the food and gear I would need for six days in the mountains. After trying on my bag, I knew it was going to be too heavy. I looked through everything I had, but I couldn't find anything I could imagine leaving behind. I just had to sleep on it.

That night though, I didn't sleep, not even for a minute. I tossed, turned and froze to death under my pile of blankets in the heated Tasmanian room. Launceston isn't even in the mountains. I already knew my light summer sleeping bag would not be enough, even when fully clothed. I thought of my gear, my garbage bag gaiters, my lack of sleeping mat. Why did I buy potatoes?

I rolled out of bed at 5:59, yelling at my 6:00 alarm to wake up. I saw that it was the morning of May 13th (duhn duhn duh!!!!). I repacked my bag, cut back on some of the food, tossed out my potatoes. I removed the one pair of comfort clothing I saved for my first night off the mountain and cut back on a few other odds and ends. The bag was still too heavy, but it was at least manageable.

I still wasn't content. I threw on my hiking boots and headed to the 24hour Kmart for a camping mat. Freezing to death from no ground insulation was not the way I wanted to kick it. I walked a half block before I hit another obstacle to my coming hike: my ankles were in intense pain.

Since I purchased the boots only two days before the hike, I wanted to make sure they were broken in, therefore, I wore them all through my afternoon with Joe and Diane, then again the morning of the flight for my 10km whirlwind tour of Sydney. In the end, all this walking did little to break in my boots and left me feet and ankles incredibly sore, just in time for the hike.

I got lost on the way to the bus station and arrived just 10 minutes before departure. Just the mere 1km of walking left me limping. I was scared and in pain; I cancelled my bus.

It took a mere moment to realize I wasn't happy with this decision. I needed guidance, so I called my father. It is unclear what advice I was hoping to receive that morning, be it "a just go for it!"or a "Son, it is ok to give up when it is a dangerous situation." I received the most level-headed wise advice only a father can give, "You're just not used to the high backing of the boots. Your feet will probably feel better after a day or so. Take it one day at a time. If after a day, it seems too risky, just turn back." He finished with the ultimate John White: Father line that has echoed through my head for 26 years of my life, "Just keep yourself out of situations of unnecessary risk." I knew he'd say that.

It was sound advice. I rebooked my bus with a minute to spare and set up a back up plan if I needed to turn back; the next bus back to Launceston from the start of the trail was Monday.

Three hours later, I arrived and Cradle Mountain National Park, ready to go, pain or not. I caved in a bought some actual rain pants at the inflated middle-of-nowhere price of $60. It was raining a little at the trail head, but I was well prepared. I took a deep breath and went forward on my first step of the Overland Track.