This was to be the big day. The park system planned the huts quite oddly for the second leg of the hike. For the most part, there lies a hut every 10km, but the second hut is a easy-grade 7.5km from the first. The third hut, however, is 17.5km further. In order for me to successfully complete the hike in five days and catch my bus at the other end, I would need to reach the third hut on the second day, a wicked 25km trek. Not a challenge unladen, but with a 50lb pack, this is quite a push.
My ankles still ached, but there was little I could but take more painkillers and deal with it. I got an early start and headed out on the simple 2 hour hike to Windermere Hut. I was allowed no grace period of weather like on the previous day; it rained from the second I left the door. A mere five minutes down the track, the trail was flooded by a swift creek. I walked to the right and found no crossing that proved narrower than the trail. To the left, I found a seven food jump across some rapids five feet below. It was a completely doable jump, but not worth the probable broken leg from jumping in such wet, slippery conditions. The trail was the only reasonable option. It didn't look too deep anyway. One foot in and I realized it was deceptively knee deep.
I jumped out of the creek, gave it the finger, and stomped through the pouring rain back to the hut and threw my fifty pound pack in the corner.
"I'm done! It's cold, rainy, everything is wet, it's too f**king foggy to see anything, and there is a f**king knee deep creek right at the start of this horrible day. Now, I'm going to have to walk with wet feet for the next 25km. I paid $1000 to do this piece of s#$t walk and it has been nothing but one... big...f**king...disappointment. I'm not putting up with this. I'm going back. That's it. F%$k this s*&t!"
The others at the hut were not really expecting such a tirade, especially minutes into the second day of the hike. It was clear I was weak. Everyone just kept on eating the breakfast in uncomfortable silence, until a young German woman finally asked the one question on everyone's mind. "Is there any way around this knee deep creek?"
"No!"
Five minutes later, I had my socks wrung out, I had my clothes put back on and was ready to move on.
"Good luck dude. Sorry you don't want to go on. It's supposed to clear up in a couple of days."
"Oh, I'm not turning back; I'm going on. I just needed to swear a lot. I'm not letting a bloody creek keep me from doing this stupid hike." This was greeted back with confused looks. They must have thought I was bipolar. But I wasn't going to be defeated, I just needed to let off some steam. So, I instantly threw myself back into the rain and built myself up to face the stupid creek.
I started chanting to myself. "Just a creek. Just some rain. Just some fog...it's gonna get nicer. Only 17 miles to go today."
I stood at the symbolic creek and thought of a plan of action. I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my hems and waded barefoot through the icy cold water. Seconds after putting my boots and wool socks back on, my feet were warm again. It really wasn't worth the spastic reaction I gave it.
I can't say as I remember seeing anything at all for the next 7km. After the creek, the trail went back up to the top of the valley and back into the wind for a 5km marathon of constant wind, rain, and sleet. All I could see was the ground as I marched forward, my hood pulled constantly over my face. Every time I dared to look up, all I could make out through the rain and fog was maybe the possibility of what could potentially be something that had a chance of being pretty. I did learn a great new skill that day: maneuvering rocks using only monocular depth perception cues. This was essential since half my face needed to be covered from the horizontal rain and sleet at all times.
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| The day's view |
The creek proved to be among the better patches of the trail that day. The 36 hours of continuous rain had flooded the entire thing. The line between trail/puddle/creek/raging waterfall became quite blurry after a point. The highlight was the unavoidable 100 meter slog through knee deep water.
The trail eventually went down into another valley, finally sheltering me from the wind, but it did little to prevent the rain. The horrible weather made the estimated 1.5-2 hour section last over three hours. By the time I reached the Windermere Hut, there wasn't enough time to make it to the next hut before dark. I was so wet, cold, and tired anyway, I doubt I would have gone on, even if I did have the time.
About five people did continue, despite the time. The next leg was estimated at five hours; with the weather though, it was sure to be inflated to six or seven. That put their arrival time well past dark. I hope they made it.
I removed my completely wet gear and went into my backpack for my dry change of clothing. Even after repacking everything in garbage bags, my clothes were still damp. The left me with no dry clothes and the temperature was quickly dropping.
Within minutes, I was shivering uncontrollably and started feeling a bit faint. I could tell I was showing the early symptoms of hypothermia. I threw on my fleece coat even though it was wet. That is one thing I love about polar fleece, it is the amazing fabric that maintains warmth, even when wet. To the person who invented polar fleece: if male, give me your hand in an extension of fraternal brotherhood and love. If female, please give me your hand in eternal matrimony: you may have kept me alive that die. Nobody else in the hut had any spare dry clothing themselves but they helped me move a bench to get close to the heater. I ate some dried fruit, drank some water and cooked some hot soup. By the time I sipped the last drop, my thermals were dry and I had gotten back to a safe homeostasis.
I looked at the map, did some revised math and realized that unless I walked the 20km for the next two days straight, I would never make it to my bus on time. There was a Tuesday bus back to Launceston from the end, but this would leave me with too little time to shower and pack before my evening flight to Sydney. I had no other choice but to turn back.
That night, I played a bit of cards with some fellow walkers. After a while, we were yawning and ready for bed. We did a round of guessing the time.
"9:00?" "I'd say 8:15." "9:30" I seconded the guess of 9:00. It was 6:45. I crawled into bed to enjoy my first good sleep in three days. It was a warm night.
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