The time I nearly killed my best mate

[Empty]

Looking over all my new lightweight gear purchases the other night gave me cause to reflect on the vast contrast between how I walk now and how I approached it on my first trip.

My father introduced me to the bush and bushcraft at a very early age forming what has been a lifelong love affair with all things outdoors. We did a lot of camping and hunting and, as I grew up my mates and I went bush every chance we had.

It was not until my mid to late twenties however that I developed a yen to leave the high impact camping behind and go full pack walking. My girl friend at the time was not really the outdoors type and preferred more 5 star accommodation. She was however very agreeable and anxious to support me in the things I wanted to do. So when I suggested we do an overnight walk along the Six Foot Track she said yes.

I am not sure exactly what year it was but it was in the late 80's or early in 1990. I do know that it was the Australia Day long weekend.

Although I had lots of camping gear not much of it was suited to bushwalking. I knew that when we did go out bush we tended to take a fair bit of gear so, on that basis I went out and bought the biggest pack I could find. I also realised that the fire blackened pans and billys I usually used wouldn't work well inside a pack so I bought a Trangia as well.

Mostly we used swags and cheap synthetic sleeping bags on our previous camps but I had always been keen to buy a down bag and I happened to find a lady making them in her living room in Roseville, not far from where I lived. There wasn't much of a selection process - she made them, I wanted one, so I bought one. Packed up it measured about 900mm long with a diameter of about 250mm and weighed about 3 kilos. I think the lady who made it must have been related to Jenny Craig because after you have spent a night in it you tend to emerge about 10KG lighter. It's a very warm bag and just perfect for a mid summer bushwalk!

Fortunately my girlfriend had a friend who had done 'the backpacking thing' around Europe and she was able to borrow a pack (essentially a travel pack), small tent, sleeping bag and one of those thin, closed cell foam sleeping mats.

My girlfriend lived in a flat at Balmoral Beach so the night before the walk we went out and did the shopping and brought everything back to her place to spread out on the living room floor. Along with all the camping gear we were taking we had a lot of stuff. I cannot remember everything we took but a couple of items do stand out, such as:

• Full length Drizzabone oilskin coat (not the lightweight version but the full blown heavy cotton)
• A large sheath knife
• Top of the range Swiss Army knife
• 4 litres of wine (2 x 2 litre casks)
• 1kg pack of self raising flour (in case we wanted a damper)
• 2 packs of Greens brand instant pancake mix in the plastic shaker bottle
• 1 bottle of Camp brand pure maple syrup (the good stuff only comes in glass bottles)
• 1 litre of meths decanted into 2 x 500ml Nalgene fuel bottles
• Assorted plates, enamel pannikins, steel cutlery etc
• Small picnic size Saxa salt and pepper
• 2 beach towels and much more besides

We must have spent most of the night trying to get all of this stuff into those two packs. I remember when we finally got my girlfriend's packed she couldn't lift it up by herself. I helped her get it up on the dining table and she crouched down slightly and reversed into it. Once the straps were tightened she tried to straighten up and I could tell immediately all was not well.

"It's too heavy" I said. "No" she said, "I'll be right". As she took a lap around the living room and then tried to set the pack down I was reminded of those wading birds with the skinny legs that have those sort of reverse knees.

Now I should mention at this point that my girlfriend was not the athletic type. If you looked up the word "exercise" in the dictionary you would not find a picture of her. We were complete opposites in that regard. I was into everything physical and enjoyed good health and fitness. What she lacked in athleticism though she made up for in enthusiasm and stoicism.

Anyway, the next morning we were up early and took a taxi to Central Station and then a train to Katoomba. On arrival we walked into a cafe in town and had a good breakfast and then proceeded to walk to the Explorer's Tree.

We got to the Tree and discovered that we had forgotten something. Thinking back I cannot for the life of me remember what it was, but at the time we decided one of us had to walk back to Katoomba and sort it out. My girlfriend was the type who ran to everybody's aid - couldn't help herself when it came to volunteering to do things for people. So it is not surprising that she one the one who walked back. That's right, the fit one stays and minds the packs while the one with the reversed knees does the running. In retrospect she probably wanted to experience one last walk without a 90 kg pack on her back! At least she had the good sense to catch a cab back.

On her return the real walk began. The start of the Six Foot Track descends down a staircase next to a fairly steep waterfall. Trying to negotiate the track carrying all that weight I thought that if one of us was going to die it would be here. We made it down unscathed and then followed the path along beside the creek until we reached a weir which, from memory was just off the Megalong Valley road. By this stage my feet were shredded so we took the opportunity to stop and apply numerous bandaids to blistered toes.

I can't remember too much of the track except that I think it continued generally downhill to the Cox's river which was to be our destination for the first day. I recall this section to be about 15kms and, once we negotiated the swing bridge we found a good sandy spot to camp amongst some granite rocks on the opposite bank.

I imagine we were pretty exhausted when we pulled into camp but only a couple things about that night stand out in my memory.

Firstly, there was the tent. Now I had owned a couple of two man and three man tents in the past and I had heard that you could even get a one man tent but I had no idea that they made a half man tent. But apparently they did because we had it with us.

This was the tent my girlfriend borrowed and I don't think I had ever seen anything quite so small. Really it was less of a tent and more like a partially inflated condom. It had a single entrance at the front that you had to belly crawl to get through. Getting in was like a reverse birthing. I felt like I was re-entering the womb. I knew that once we were in we would never get out again. We would have to wait for someone to come along and pull us out by the ankles. Either that or put a couple of stamps on and post us home.

The other thing I remember was the two of us sitting in the sand with our backs against a fallen tree, pannikin of chardonnay in hand, staring up at the clouds and having a competition to see what 'thing' we could recognise in the cloud patterns. Funny what you remember.

The following morning I went down to the river to get water and returned to find my girlfriend beside the camp fire with her pack opened. I watched for a while as she reached in and grabbed odd items of clothing and proceeded to burn them. Spare socks, spare undies, spare bra all went in the fire. There was no way she was carrying anything she didn't have to. The kilo packet or flour went in and the left over wine was poured on the ground and the packaging burned.

Once she got rid of as much as she could she then grabbed her sleeping mat and started to cut strips off it. These were destined to be padding around the hips and shoulders.

Leaving camp we realised that we had stopped short of the official camp site on the Cox's when we encountered quite a few walkers camped further up. Where they had come from we had no idea as we had not seen a sole on the first day. There was also a big group that was walking as part of a guided tour with Great Australian Walks. These folk paid for the privilege of walking with a guide and only had the burden of a day pack. At the end of each day they walked into an elaborate campsite where their tents were set up and their meals cooked. Luxury!

We had chat with guide and he explained what was in store for us up ahead. He confirmed what we already knew. That there was no water once you left the river and that is was mainly up hill until you reached the 'pluviometre'. All that day we leap frogged his group. We would trudge up a hill and sit down for a rest only to see his team frolicking along through the valley below carrying packs the size of teabags.

I only remember that day as being a slog, and, although I seemed to cope with okay, my poor girlfriend must have been going through hell.

My approach to walking up hills then was, as it is know, to charge at them. I have always preferred going uphill as opposed to downhill which hurts my knees and ankles. So as I blasted up these hills I had to constantly remind myself to stop and wait for my friend. I'd turn around and she would be a dot, red face glowing like a beacon, far behind in the distance.

In contrast to my assault on the hills her approach was much more measured and something I had never witnessed before. She had the unique ability to come to an absolute sudden stop, feet and legs perfectly together like a solider snapping to attention. Now I don't about others but I have the impression that when I come to a stop it is a gradual process. A gentle slowing down before coming to a standstill. But not her. Instantaneous stop. No warning, just stop.

All day I watched her slog away. Six steps, instant stop, short rest, proceed. Six steps, instant stop, short rest, proceed. And so on.

Another aspect of her walking style was even more curious. At one stage I was (again) walking ahead but this time not too far ahead. The ground was perfectly flat and I was just thinking she should be enjoying the easy going when all of a sudden I heard a loud 'ker-thud' behind me. I spun around to see my friend, a crumpled mess, pinned under the weight of this almighty pack. Her arms were spread eagled and her legs were bent in the oddest manner. I don't think even Pythagoras could have come up with a name for the angle her legs were at. Poor thing. I raced back to help up and asked 'how could you fall over like that on perfectly flat ground?". "I dunno" is all she could muster. This phenomena happened twice.

I realised then, that while I was having a gay old time, my best mate was 'dying'. Every step she took was like a mini death and it was all my of my doing. But do you know what? She never complained. Not once. She just kept going. When I look back now I feel just terrible that I made her go through all that.

Eventually we made it up to the rotten pluviometre and then along the plateau. The guide had mentioned that there were a couple of sink holes along the side of the track that may hold water. We found them okay. Brown and brackish and full of wrigglers. Although we were getting pretty low we decided to ration what we had rather than risk cholera, bubonic plague, dysentery and whatever else lurked beneath the surface.

By this stage we were just about done in so we found a miserable little spot in the scrub and made camp. I remember a lack of water that night and one other thing. Once the sun started to go down these 'things' started to drop from the trees. They were a cross between a praying mantis and a Boeing 747. There were literally dozens of them. They were all over our tent, our food, in our hair, everywhere. You'll think I am exaggerating but I kid you not, it was like a scene from a Stephen King novel. The only harm they caused was that they prematurely drove us into that ridiculously small tent. Punishment enough!

To add insult to injury, girlfriend had to share my sleeping mat as there was nothing left of hers. She was wearing it all. Her latest achievement was to turn the remainder into a hat. She had forgotten to bring a proper hat and the sun was cooking her. So, in her usual stoic manner she fashioned a hat from the remnants of her foam. Better a little discomfort under the bum than third degree burns she reasoned.

The hat was killer. Picture a witches hat without the brim. Effectively a big cone, stitched together at the front (yes, we had a sowing kit!). A crook look but she did not give a hoot. Good for her!

Next day we seemed to walk for a bit until we were spat out of the forest and onto the Jenolan Caves road. Directly opposite was a picnic ground with a tap. Happy days!

The route follows the bitumen for a while, which is a bit ordinary, before cutting back into the bush and then descending to the caves. My girlfriend got revenge on the downhill section where every step was agony for me. Once at the caves we celebrated with a beer or three and then caught the bus back to Katoomba.

Looking at the experience back then, and even allowing for the fact though we didn't quite get the packing right, the trip was far from a disappointment. I thoroughly enjoyed it and it set me on a path of continuous improvement as far as walking goes. When I got back I began to haunt the stores in Kent street, spending ridiculous amounts of money on all the latest gadgets.

What about my girlfriend? Did she enjoy it? Of that I am not so sure but how can you tell with someone who doesn't complain? She did agree to go on another walk with me not long after though which may be a sign in itself. We went through the Jamieson Valley, over Mount Solitary and through to Wentworth Falls. Much better prepared that time. And after that two more walks - both down Breakfast Creek over the Cox's and up Little Jenolan. But after that, nothing.

So what became of her? Well, what do you do when you have a companion like that who is so uncomplaining, so obliging? You marry them of course and live happily ever after.

She was ( still is) a great sport and we can look back now, as we do from time to time, and have a good old laugh at that trip. I am certainly not as fit as I was back then, the realisation of which is one of the less pleasant aspects of reminiscing, but I still like to charge up hills.

So that's my trip down memory lane, where experiences were had and wisdom was got.

[Lindsay]

Great story.....any pictures of the hat?

[wildlight]

Six steps, instant stop, short rest, proceed. Six steps, instant stop, short rest, proceed

It was after all "the six foot track!

Perhaps your girlfriend worked to that formula?

What a marvellous piece of writing. Three days into a traverse of the Western Arthurs many years ago, the girlfriend of the day announced "I'll do this walk with you, share the tent with you, and sit next to you on the plane home- but if this is your idea of fun, the rest of your life will be lived without me"

She moved out the day after we returned to Melbourne!

Cheers, Wildlight

[Moondog55]

Great write-up
"Like"

[jjoz58]

Top story, she was definitely a keeper.

[Hallu]

Please work on the title. Too dramatic.

[Jaala]

Title is fine. I'm glad it all worked out in the end, very much enjoyed reading this.

[davidf]

Get her to watch the movie Platoon just the snipet where Sheens character has all the *&%$#! thrown out of his pack. Stop it there though, the fire ant scene may not be as productive.

[perfectlydark]

Good read!

[Bubbalouie]

That was a very fun read, thanks for sharing.

The title suites the story I think, very tongue in cheek.

[Strider]

Please work on the title. Too dramatic.

Please work on your commentary. Too blunt.

A great read

[corvus]

Great narrative made me laugh and think about my enamel plates and mugs from my first few walks especially as I was the pack horse for both me and my 10 year old son
corvus

[Onestepmore]

Great story, well written.
Reminds me a bit of my first overnight walking experience to the Blue Gum Forest in the Blue Mountains with some Uni friends, but I was the subject, not the author. Eerily similar, even down to the Mosman flat bit. I remember getting everything out of my pack and having it spread all over the rocks after the first descent into the valley, and eating everything I could possibly do without. I never considered burning the spare pair of jeans I carried.....would have been an excellent idea (it was probably a fire ban). Unlike her though, I don't think I suffered in silence!

[walkon]

A hiking partner that is stoic and doesnt complain? I thought that they were on par with unicorns, elves and other fairytales, wow!

[DannyS]

Really enjoyed that Thanks for sharing.

[beachcruiser]

Great story

[wayno]

in a way she contributed to her own demise through lack of communication, could have put that on her headstone maybe?

[kanangra]

Great yarn. As you were coming to the end I was saying to myself, I hope he married her? Women like that don't come along every day.

The trouble is that all of us could probably tell a similar story. Why do we only learn the hard way?

K.