• Zubiri to Pamplona

    17 september, Spanien ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C

    What do you know, I survived the night - that was paying really good odds, I'm sure many of you are surprised. The GORGEOUS Italian couple in our room not only were gracious and understanding about the noise pollution but also gave me some paracetamol which will hopefully help with the fever. I was so brain scrambled I couldn't think of anything to say in Italian other than thank you and sorry, but I got a second go when I saw her again in Pamplona (spoiler alert, also survived the walk).

    Branna insisted we eat breakfast in the same firm, semi incredulous voice she's been using on me for several days, the unsaid 'what the fuck is wrong with you' bulging to escape between the lines. She's captain of the calorie and hydration and ibuprofen police and I'm very very grateful. Decaf coffee! Tortilla! Two minutes into the walk, kittens! It all boded incredibly well.

    The walk felt quite busy relative to the earlier days. At one point I perched on a log on the phone to James and felt like the Angel of the North. Poor Jim couldn't get a word in without me looking past him on the screen to nod and say buen Camino to everyone on the pilgrim highway. Because I took many breaks to manage the chest, Branna ended up a few kilometres ahead and then some, which I'll let her tell. It's quite dull being sick, I shall try to be better by the next post so I can contribute something more interesting.

    - Lex
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  • Cat stats

    17 september, Spanien ⋅ ⛅ 14 °C

    You guys, today was just ballistic. Cat count is now at THIRTY SEVEN seen, alas only four pat, but two of those were KITTENS which I think counts extra. In one notable 20 metre stretch I clocked nine. Near passed out. I was on a video call with James at the time so no photos but he'd sign my stat dec if required.

    - Lex
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  • Proof of life

    16 september, Spanien ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C

    The diseased tortoise dragged herself 22km to Zubiri today, and that's about all she's got wind for so if you need me I'll be slowly decomposing in the top bunk. Looked for anything that might help in a supermarket near Roncesvalles but they take their shop delineation seriously so had to wait until about 1pm to get to a pharmacy in Zubiri.

    I walked past it three times, exasperated, told her all about my dolor de garganta and tos con phlem and she allocated me some basically herbal lozenges. I managed to get 100m away and have her come running out saying the payment didn't go through. They're helping but we are pretty far down in the trenches, so it's a bit like how high heels would help you see on top of a skyscraper.

    I am the LPP (least popular pilgrim) in the albergue and I can't argue with it. Ew! Tomorrow I'm going to have to walk with sunglasses and a hat on and possibly my towel as a head shawl as I'm developing a wonderful light sensitivity that just screams 'recovery'. If needed I'll shackle myself to Branna like a donkey and be led, but we'd need quite a long rope and I can frankly think of better uses for it at this present moment.

    Goodbye forever or possibly just until the morning, we cannot say.

    - Lex
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  • Roncesvalles to Zubiri

    16 september, Spanien ⋅ 🌫 13 °C

    The weather dropped from about 28° to 14°, and we were keen as beans. Off in the dark, we made quick work through the forest path, encountering an absolute bounty of farm animals as the sun began to rise. These bells charm the hell out of me I tell you. Ring-a-ding your way into my heart.

    Today was definitely not as unrelenting as yesterday, with about half the incline overall, but still had a fair amount of up and down. Even though it was cool, it was very clammy inside our rain gear and we quickly enjoyed that feeling of being hot, damp, and constricted.

    The scenery was, once again, a delight, I applaud the Spaniards. Applause continues for their tortilla and cheesecake - both enjoyed at our halfway pitstop.

    Highlight of the leg (other than the outrageously staunch horses) was coming across the trail-side exhibition by who I can only assume is the local lunatic. An array of vegetables, ranging in freshness, were laid out artfully in various states of decoration. Constructive criticism would include the suggestion of arranging them in dramatic scenes, à la the nativity scene (right on brand for camino), or perhaps Will Smith getting slapped by Chris Rock, if we're going modern.

    After an alarmingly long and steep descent into Zubiri, during which I seriously questioned if my knees would explode, we tottered into our beds, looking around aimlessly, unable to make decisions or execute complete motor function. After a stint of this, we came (slightly) to our senses and ventured out for a meal. One that goes down in the history books for me; burger size of my head, say no more.

    - Branna
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  • Roncesvalles

    15 september, Spanien ⋅ ☁️ 16 °C

    Branna told me when we were walking today the photo I posted of the Roncesvalles albergue covered in snow on my initial approach was the first time she thought wow, that's really cool. There's a self depreciating joke to be made about her referring to anything I've ever done, but if I make it she'll get the hump so I shan't. For the second day in a row, the approach was different so I'm starting to suspect I took a few cute little liberties in round one, but I plead snow obscuring signs your honour.

    After our mandatory and delicious conks, we checked in at 1pm, navigating the QR code process they have introduced presumably to streamline the process but from what we can see is doing anything but. Bizarrely access to the sleeping area and bathrooms was restricted until 2pm, so I perched downstairs in an armchair directing every second asshole - something about me really screams How Can I Help You.

    Some wonderful downtime in our quad with Marianne and Robert, French friends in their 60s or so, that paid us the perfect amount of attention i.e. quite little, but warm. Branna wrote her update about today's walk and I napped. On waking, she brought me up to speed on the Americans in the next quad (insufferable) and I did everything possible to avoid eye contact with Robert's untethered testicles as he rubbed cream after heavily scented cream into his legs and feet.

    Pilgrim dinner at 7pm, where we both went with pasta and trout in lieu of salad and chicken. There was also v nice bread, wine, and an icecream thing. I didn't take a photo as I was preoccupied trying to work out which one the irate waitress had poisoned.

    Choofed straight into mass at 8pm, handshakey bit still fabulous, but this time rivalled by a special pilgrim blessing. Peace be with you!

    Tomorrow it's a top of 13 degrees, can't tell you how excited we are. Thanks JC, looking out already.
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  • Varcarlos to Roncesvalles

    15 september, Spanien ⋅ 🌙 18 °C

    Turns out that the forced splitting of the first day into two was a blessing in disguise (lady caz you sneaky gal). The walk today was Hard, with a capital Hard.

    Setting off at 7am we trudged along the road out of town as dawn blossomed onto the hills around us. Is it surprising that Europe is this pretty? Somehow, yes? The first 2 hours were gradually uphill, in a tiresome but charming kind of way, although the air was balmy in a suspicious manner that didn't feel at all correct for so early in the day. We kept an eye on this fact in our peripheral vision, not wanting any direct confrontation.

    The plod continued until about the 8km mark, where the trail had a hostile, radical, and violent acceleration in incline. I've hiked some hills and, fam, I have never stepped my way up a slope so slowly in my life. The next hour or so was a masterclass in Locking In. Eyes down, sweat soaked, water depleted, sign of the cross up to caz.

    Ever the optimists, we nevertheless counted our blessings. Rattling off "at least we're not....!!"s in grim enthusiasm, poking at our morale much like kicking a dead horse. At least we started early and would be finished before the temperature peak! At least we hadn't come all the way from SJPP! At least we packed a snack!

    Pros:
    The scenery? Comically stunning. The babbling brook flowing alongside us? Magical. The fox Lexie saw? Fantastic (Mr Fox).

    Cons:
    The piles of poop I stopped to inspect? Uninhabited.

    Highlight:
    Walking through a herd of gentle cow angels, complete with calves, lazily making a melody of cowbells.

    (Other highlight):
    Finish line Coke

    - Branna
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  • Gastronomic loitering

    14 september, Spanien ⋅ 🌙 25 °C

    All told we spent five hours at the bar/restaurant/supermarket up the road from our accommodation today, and I think of the four places in town we really picked a winner. From 11am to 1pm we nursed a coke and our packed lunches waiting for check in, then we optimistically rocked up for dinner at 5:45pm and nursed a second, somehow more delicious coke until service started at 7:30pm, getting home at 9pm and tumbling directly into bed. We went with the 20e set menu, which included bread, three courses and a bottle of wine. It was all really delicious, so chalk that up as another difference, it was yonks before I ate a truly nice sit down dinner last time.

    - Lex
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  • Casa Ferran

    14 september, Spanien ⋅ ⛅ 29 °C

    Here's what I can tell you about the private room Branna booked us in Valcarlos...

    (EDIT: This stinks of a smear campaign and I stand against it. Lexie failed to mention we didn't see another soul, so basically had a whole apartment for our private use, AND there was a second far better bathroom, with a lovely showerhead, plus a locking door - Branna)

    (EDIT EDIT: UM it was very nice Branna and you did a Good Job, it had a lovely bed and lamp to avoid big light and fridge etc.)

    It goes by multiple names which the woman at the luggage transfer place in SJPP knew and said "welcome to Basque country". All's well, our bags, like bloody MAGIC, were inside our room when we checked in. 8e. Barg.

    It was a room within an apartment, so shared kitchen living and bathroom. This set up was simultaneously very and not at all secure. Getting into the front door took multiple years of study and a gym membership, but then we couldn't lock it again once inside (something I'll admit after the fact lest James have palpitations). We were provided a key for our room which was purely decorative, and bathroom privacy boiled down to a little red/green slider on the door.

    The contraption in the third picture was in the kitchen. I initially thought dishwasher but then started leaning hot water cylinder. Open to guesses in the comments.

    The shower head is bewitched. There was incredible water pressure in the handheld device, but the socket thing to pop it in was very slack, allowing the hose to dance around like a violently enthusiastic cobra, redirecting the stream in a pattern I don't think mathematics is advanced enough to map. Quite fun.

    - Lex
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  • St Jean Pied De Port to Valcarlos

    14 september, Frankrike ⋅ ☀️ 14 °C

    Aka a series of photos of Branna's back, and if that's not doing it for you then I have quite bad news about the next five weeks. Waking up in a private room and walking without my bag are two things I didn't do at all on my first Camino, so it felt very luxe. Unburdened, we arrived into town at 10:30am and began an unmitigated mooch until we could check in (two hours early) at 1pm.

    Going via Valcarlos means all the climbing is tomorrow. The Buen Camino app tells me we did 13km, almost all on (very rural) roads rather than trails, with just 263m up and about 140m down. Tomorrow is about 950m up and 450m down, which will be a right tonic for my chest, rapidly becoming host to a wet cough.

    In preparation I got a very tactical nap in, and we are currently waiting until the kitchen at the bar down the road opens at 7:30pm. Gib.

    - Lex

    Hola, it's me, Nigel Thornberry. I was struck with a strongly curious thought on our trek this morning as to whether Europe has dung beetles. I've never seen a dung beetle and, evidently, I would quite like to.

    I let the thought float around in my empty skull for some time, until my companion prompted me, some 8 hours later whilst waiting for supper, to Google it. That I did, and friends, WONDERFUL news.

    Not only does our current region host numerous DB species, but in a passionate discussion with Google AI I discovered additional potential species to spot. These include, hold onto your hat, hedgehogs and badgers - upon reading this I proclaimed quite faithfully "if I see a badger I'm going to SHIT". What a dream.

    Circling back to reality though, animals already spotted include:

    Cow
    Horse
    Cat
    Pig
    Dog
    Chicken
    Sheep

    5 stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

    - Branna (Nigel)
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  • Une, dos, three

    14 september, Frankrike ⋅ ☀️ 14 °C

    Last night, when we thought we were going to Roncesvalles today, we decided to treat ourselves to luggage transfer today as it's going to be quite hot, the Napoleon pass is quite steep, and eight euros each feels like a number we could incredulously celebrate investing approximately once every three metres.

    Lest our bags end up more seasoned pilgrims than us, I planted myself outside the luggage office in the dark to be first in line when they opened at 7, and because cancellation wouldn't get us a refund, changed the destination to Valcarlos. I put up such a fight, you'll simply have to believe me.

    FORCED to travel without packs, we set about adding weight by virtue of getting our money's worth at breakfast - at which we were seated opposite Kate from Tranmere, a suburb of Hobart. Honestly.

    At 7:45, offeth we setteth, savouring the cool morning.
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  • The tortoise and the hare

    13 september, Frankrike ⋅ ☀️ 30 °C

    We found lodgings at a guesthouse called, translated, The Tortoise and the Hare, at which they have multiple actual tortoises and several thousand clues to that effect. I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions about the relevance of this particular fable to us, noting that Branna is trying very hard to not break the sound barrier and I'm quite proud of the effort displayed so far.

    We were probably overeager to assure THAT'S FINE when she told us all the single beds were gone and she only had an 85 euro private room left. I graciously ignored the sign that said 80 - don't look a gift tortoise in the mouth. Choking on incense and smiling beatifically as her husband somehow saw through the smog to light another, we checked in and got talked through self serve breakfast tomorrow (7e, yes) and communal dinner tonight (18e, no).

    The room had eight powerpoints and a rug that tried to kill us multiple times. We availed outselves of the perky private bathroom, went and had a hilariously low brow pizza and some beer in a plastic cup, and then I slowly rotisseried myself on the odd mattress throughout the night - despite wearing a mask throughout transit, I'm predictably sick.

    Poor old Branna had to listen to me pinball phlegm around my sinuses, racking up many triple point bonanzas. It's probably bird flu, a sparrow ate some of my pain au choc on Biarritz but I didn't surrender the remainder.

    - Lex
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  • Early lessons

    13 september, Frankrike ⋅ ☀️ 30 °C

    Arriving in SJPP we had notions of sailing into the municipal albergue (like my first time) and then tomorrow walking to Roncesvalles via the Napoleon route (unlike my first time, when it was closed due to snow).

    We were the second from our train to get our credentials from the pilgrim office, and approaching the albergue at 3:45pm added our backpacks to the line waiting for 4pm check in - we were numbers 18 and 19.

    As Branna as foreshadowed, nup. On Sundays the albergue randomly sleeps 15 rather than 34. Go bloody figure. There was dissention in the ranks when the very grumpy clerk started calling out names of people they seemed to be expecting, and plucking (french speaking, possibly coincidentally) people from the back to the front. A french speaking Korean bloke that was #13 and not getting a bed really went in to bat but she wasn't having a bar of it.

    We ended up sorted (see next post) but it was a bit of a preview - in the two and a half year gap between caminos, the albergues seem to have started taking reservations. Fek! Looking ahead to Roncesvalles I was floored to discover that not only was the 183 bed municipal booked out, so were the other two places in town.

    Getting to Roncesvalles is already a big day, especially in 29 degrees, so the idea of overshooting wasn't getting much love, and everything in between on the Napoleon route was booked too.

    Another pivot then - we'll go via Valcarlos, and split one 30km day into a 12 and 18. We invested a bit of time in booking the next three nights (Valcarlos, Roncesvalles, Zubiri) and went for a wander. It'll settle.

    - Lex
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  • Biarritz to SJPP

    13 september, Frankrike ⋅ ☀️ 25 °C

    Our second day in Biarritz was mostly spent having a snoozy cruise around more of the town, toddling through the market stalls and stopping about every 10 metres to squeak at a dog. You'll note the well-groomed gentleman rocking boots with the fur; apple bottom jeans apparently left at home.

    Around midday we flung ourselves through the sweat soaked gauntlet of more public transport, eventually arriving in Saint Jean Pied de Port (our starting line). We shan't comment on troop morale at this point. Where we were expecting to stay the night had an absence of beds and a presence of an incensed French woman telling people "piss OFF we're full" (I imagine, can't speak French actually, a rare fault). It was also as hot as the surface of the sun and my sandals (SUPPOSED to be comfortable foot refuge) had given me a burning blister - google, what's the Crocs complaint hotline? Devastating.

    Nevertheless, we prevail. We put our "we're on the literal brink but let's sort shit out" faces on and found alternative digs. A chance to sit out of the sun, a private room, and (for me) a change of shoes did absolute wonders for our spiritual wellbeing.

    - Branna
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  • Too soon for caffeine

    13 september, Frankrike ⋅ ☀️ 18 °C

    Sitting outside Les Halles in the warm shade, eating pastries and coffee successfully ordered in french (brag) watching dogs and children and listening to the tinkle of fountains and conversations drift across the square. What comes to mind? Correct. DANGER, DANGER, DANGER, all hands on deck, panic attack time. The brain is an interesting thing. I'd like to take mine out and shoot it. Think I need to stick to decaf. Several of your strongest wishes for the two trains to St Jean Pied de Port today pls. Sigh.

    - Lex (obviously)
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  • Biarritz

    12 september, Frankrike ⋅ 🌙 21 °C

    After three planes, an airport shuttle, two trains and a metro, I've never been happier to pay for the uber from the train station to our hotel - particularly now that the single tax is lifted and I get to share these luxuries and expenses.

    At the point we can barely string a sentence together thanks to fatigue but we're still keen to go for what turns into a six kilometre jaunt, something is special about Biarritz. It's a real treat seeing her in her sunny surf element, absolutely infested with admirers.

    I'd make this two entries but it's 8.30pm, I'm sandy, and I'm nearly falling off my funky orange chair in the hotel lobby. Why are they ALWAYS orange. Bran will post about our Paris entree in the morn, she's crashing too. Bonne nuit, units!

    - Lex
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  • Jardin de Luxembourg

    12 september, Frankrike ⋅ ☁️ 24 °C

    A polite request to not have me executed for posting out of chronological order, but allow me to take you 24hr back in time to Luxembourg Garden, Paris.

    We had a luxurious couple of hours in between legs of public transport (which included a very dignified sprint through the station from one train, the wrong train, to another, the right train), and decided to hoof it a few blocks to Luxembourg.

    (Lexie interjection to maintain transit dignity - right locomotive, wrong train. Who links them together so you can't access all the cars from the interior, I swear to god.)

    Emerging from the metro into the streets of Paris was quite exciting for me, and quite amusing for Lexie, and she graciously paused to allow me to jiggle up and down in glee. And it only slightly smelled of piss!! 👍🤗

    The gardens were an absolute delight, and we happily sat to people-watch with our supermarket picnic. Lexie compared butts with the statues and I toasted a conk in Eva's honour.

    - Branna
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  • Spoiling you

    12 september, Singapore ⋅ ☁️ 24 °C

    One of the perks (or downfalls, depending on your perspective) of this Camino trip compared to Lexie's last, is that she is now we (there's a GREAT joke there, mum, lexie, I know you see it). Thereby and henceforth, potentially double the posts. A 2 for 1 deal!! Oo la la.

    To bolster sister's food review I can clarify that the suspect second round of bread rolls were infact 'tomato rolls' - a bit vague and creative of a title as it was just orange tinged brioche. Not bad though.

    This leg of the flight started in absolute seething outrage that the empty seat between us had been taken at the last minute, meaning we couldn't fold ourselves across it to sleep like two grumpy ringtail possums. Our new row-mate ended up being pleasingly inoffensive though - very skinny lad who slept the whole way.

    Speaking of lads, the old mate in front of me had the absolute AUDACITY to wear jeans on a 13hr flight, so if anyone should be kidnapped by customs on arrival it should be him.

    Someone please also write a letter to whoever made the rules on plane temperature because why was I freezing underneath a blanket, a fleece jacket, and a scarf? Please explain.

    The absolute bounty of free food won me over however, as is exceedingly prone to do.

    Not too many photos as of yet (too busy shivering and looking around for the arrival of my next meal), but stay tuned.

    - Branna
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  • Hello from up here

    12 september, Singapore ⋅ 🌧 27 °C

    They still give you actual metal cutlery on Singapore Airlines and every single opportunity I had to pilfer a teaspoon tempted me greatly. When we were kids, our Dad would take one of us camping each year - or at least I think it was an annual event, to a kid time is a very elastic thing. Child A would go spend something like two nights on the side of the Mersey River rafting and toasting marshmallows and sitting on his back as he swam around, and Child B would get Mums Undiluted Attention, a heady and intoxicating brew.

    On one of my turns at being Child A, washing up cups in the river, I found amongst the stones a teaspoon with JAL stamped on it, and what I was reliably informed was the Japanese Airlines logo. It's still in mum and dad's cutlery drawer some 25 years later, possibly because I treated it like the most notable archeological triumph known to man. I assumed - which nobody bloody challenged, I'll add - it had fallen out of the plane, and landed in the river. It did not occur to me that someone had just nicked it. I left all these teaspoons in the sky where they belong.

    If we're ranking things from best to worst, and we are, because content at the start of these trips is scarce (woman spends 38 hours transiting through various tubes and corridors with 40,000 of her peers, ground breaking) and I am bored, then things I ate on the plane are organised thusly:

    1. Pesto pasta salad with hot smoked salmon - banger, what a DARK HORSE

    2. Raspberry yoghurt - more very long odds, the bookies will be spewing

    3. Pork stew with mashed potatoes - Branna told me that my assertion braised things stand up very well on planes was odd, but it certainly isn't wrong

    4. Cherry cake thing with custard - v nice even by ground standards and this is from a custard agnostic

    5. Fruit salad - a reminder of how good apples can be

    6. Salted caramel icecream - could have hammered a nail in with it, and I'm a icecream chewer not licker so that's fine with me

    7. Spicy (showing my white here) coleslaw with cold smoked salmon - bit weird but in an enjoyable way, like Anne Geddes photography

    8. English breakfast - the snappiness of the chicken sausage rocketed this up the charts but points off as was too full to finish

    9. Bread roll #1 - quite hard when allowed to cool, but bread-esque

    10. Bread roll #2 - had not had the concept explained very well to it, but retained points for Lurpack butter accompaniment

    11. Cheese and biscuits - so waxy, so dry

    12. Fish with fried rice and greens - eh! fine!

    13. Bread roll #3 - same hurdles as #2 but more stale

    Key takeaways: far more fish than I was expecting and it's only up from here on the bread front. Branna may have different views and I'm happy to hear them on the train from Paris to Biarritz which is next.

    - Lex
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  • Changi chemist

    11 september, Singapore ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C

    We're choofing off to Paris via Singapore, just two sisters with a spreadsheet and a dream. Travel broadens the mind they say, and I believe em. Is this not the most gorge anti-diarrhoea helper you've ever seen? I'm inspired. Note also the wonderful (vaguely soviet) statue repping a nation full of sleek couples and really unviably small babies, and the butterfly garden, which in the dark is really more of a sweaty sensory deprivation tank.

    - Lex
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  • Day Six - Bert Nichols to Lake St Clair

    20 april 2024, Australien ⋅ ☀️ 13 °C

    Imagine the joy, when, after just finally drifting off into proper sleep for the night around 4am, our alarm (a near silent buzz buzz from Dylan's watch, we're not animals) went off. 5am. My favourite time to get up.

    In all fairness, this was the only morning of the trip that getting out of 'bed' was hard. All other mornings we've happily sprung up for a trip to the loo as soon as even a hint of daylight made it through the window. I think it was the distinct lack of any light at all that made this one a bit grating. Still, we had business to attend to.

    With levels of efficiency that would've got us hired by a Grand Prix pit crew, we readied ourselves for the day ahead and stowed away our gear. Off we went into the dark, guided by head torches and the ever-nearing promise of a burger.

    The walk today was dull. No views, STILL no wombats (I'd like to have a word to someone about this), and the mud/tree roots had far overstayed their welcome at this point. I had enjoyed neither breakfast NOR coffee, and, crucially, had no lollies left to munch on from my hip pocket. Morale was low. The Stumbles, Mumbles, and Grumbles we'd been warned about started to appear, as, according to our watch distance, we should be there by now - where the F is this hut???

    Spirits were boosted (mine, anyway) at the arrival of the suspension bridge. As loved ones will know, anything I can venture out onto and bounce around on above thin air is a great time for me. Also, we knew from this point that Narcissus was not far away.

    We got there, quickly got very cold, and sat around for a torturous snack-less half hour before it was time for the ferry. The ferry ride ended up being markedly beautiful, clear skies, sparkling water, and grand mountains surrounding us on every side. My mind was firmly, single-mindedly, resolutely, fixed on a shower and a burger at this point though, and so these regal vistas barely registered. Sorry mountains.

    We arrived, and after some stern words to the man at the lodge desk who claimed I had not paid for the ferry booking and now, in fact, needed to (please sir kindly check through your receipt book and CLEARLY FIND MINE), we made a frenzied beeline to the showers.

    I simply cannot say enough about this shower. Did I see God, yes, yes I did. Did it change my life, undoubtedly. Did I literally laugh out loud in joy for its entire 5 minute duration, I think I did, yes. What a fucking blessing hot water can be. I emerged truly euphoric, wrapped up in clean cozy clothes that we had left ourselves in the car.

    Sitting in the lodge eating area, I stumbled my way through the onslaught of notifications phone reception had afforded me, and manically drained an excellent strong flat white. Then, it was time. The prophecy unfolded before us. Heavens gates swung open. The burgers had arrived.

    The euphoria awakened earlier by the shower was back with gusto, I could barely chew and swallow through the drooling, dazed smile that was plastered on my face. It was absolutely incredible.

    After the haze lifted enough for me to gain control of my motor functions, we strolled down to the lake's edge. We sat in the sun, we got pictures at the sign, we got our passes stamped at the visitor centre like children, we treated ourselves to dessert, and we met up with The Girls, who had been on the next ferry after us, and all bid each other friendly goodbyes.

    Finally, we got in the car. A journey come to an end. How strange it felt. How bizarre to suddenly be ripping kilometres away at, seemingly, the speed of light. After a long journey home, we arrived, unpacked our bags, and, as any sane person would do, ordered pizza and coke.
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  • Bert Nichols Hut

    19 april 2024, Australien ⋅ ☀️ 11 °C

    Readers, we beat The Stragglers. We were, in fact, the very first ones here. Thank you, thank you, I know.

    We weren't sure what to expect at this hut, it being one of the older ones, and therefore not likely to follow the layout we've gotten used to. It turned out to be one of our favourites. A great portion of this, in hindsight, was simply the weather we had here. The couple of other days we've spent hanging around the huts after short walk legs have been somewhat boring. Cold and rainy outside, and not much space or comfort inside. Yes I UNDERSTAND why they don't provide couches or simply cushions, but would've loved one. Anyway, here we received such sunshine and warmth that it turned our hut experience into something completely new and wonderful. The hour or so I spent laying face down outside on the sunny helipad was a joy I can only imagine rivals how lizards feel on rocks. It was sublime. I couldn't believe the luxury of warmth on my body and birdsong in my ears.

    The joy continued as, bolstered by the sunlight, we partook in some of the only socialising we did on the trip (introverts unite), as we joined a group sitting around together out on one of the wooden tent platforms. Soaking up the sunshine together, laying around like cats, we discussed all the various nicknames we've each bestowed upon each other; what our packs weighed; what we wished we'd brought (mainly more snacks); and what the first thing we were looking forward to doing was when we finished. Everyone had great curiosity about what it was the Elite Athletes did in their personal lives to achieve this status. Dylan got the great satisfaction of being able to simply say he was a runner, to much oohs, ahhs, general understanding and head nodding. Anyone who also plays roller derby and has had to explain that fact to someone will intuitively understand that I was not afforded the same response. It was accepted however, with less enthusiastic and slightly confused head nodding. Hannah, of The Girls, shared her lollies and I even ended up being the recipient of a snack sized Picnic bar, to my obscene delight. It was truly lovely (the socialising, not just the chocolate) and I'm very glad we joined in.

    We eventually tucked ourselves into bed on the large communal bunk platforms (imagine a ground platform and then one above it, both able to fit about 8 people across). Blessedly, Dylan and I were the only people on our top platform, and there were only two people below us on the bottom. Having successfully avoided being sardines (ALWAYS go for the most furthest away room) we were quite chuffed at being able to snuggle up next to each other for night. Snuggling is actually impossible when your sleeping mats slide away from under you and you're in separate sleeping bags, but it was nice in spirit.

    We awoke at 5am, and were on the way by 6am - hoofing it through to catch the 9.30am ferry from Narcissus Hut (we'd skip staying the night here) back to Lake St Clair. This was a lightly stressful realisation we'd come to partway through the trip: I'd booked the ferry (for some unknown reason) too early on our last day. Therefore, we either had to double up and do our last two days together, staying at Narcissus instead of Bert Nichols so we would already be there for the ferry the next morning, or, as we decided on, get up early enough to complete the walk there in time.

    This all worked out splendidly and we made it. Back at Lake St Clair though, guess who found out that it wasn't actually 9.30am SATURDAY she'd booked the ferry (which had been the confusing factor, why had I done that and not given us enough time??) but 9.30am Sunday, which would've allowed us time to complete the last walk at leisure and stay the night at Narcissus Hut......... Not me, that's for sure.
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  • Day Five - Kia Ora to Bert Nichols

    19 april 2024, Australien ⋅ ☀️ 10 °C

    Last night's hint of clear skies rang true this morning and we applauded the arrival of another beautiful day. Cathedral Mountain was glistening in the dawn light, our packs/food were free of mouse holes, and we knew today was Waterfall Day - what a treat.

    Today's walk is another fairly short one, made longer, however, with the addition of the short side trips to see the falls. While I was set on doing these, we also had An Issue. Staying at Kia Ora (the hut we were departing from this morning) was a group of 5 stragglers that belonged to the collection of walkers who set out from Cradle the day before our group. Roughly 32 walkers depart each day, and mostly stay together the entire week, unless some people double up some days or take a rest day. This is allowed, as there is no time limit on when you have to end your walk. I appreciate this flexibility, HOWEVER. What it also means, unavoidably, is that you may arrive at a hut to find a number of beds already taken, forcing members of the arriving group to go without. Now, luckily, between the number of beds at Kia Ora and the number of our group who chose to camp anyway, no one went without. Our concern came for the night ahead of us, which was to be spent at Bert Nichols Hut, an older hut that has less beds (24), while our group numbered 29 + these 5 stragglers. Audience, I can humbly tell you that Dylan and I would ROT before we handed up beds to these people. Once more, the race was on.

    In all seriousness, we do think PWS would be wise to implement a fairness system addressing this. A solution, should they call on me for consultation, could be as follows. Walkers may stray from the traditional daily schedule as they wish, however, if they are to spend a night at a hut that isn't the traditionally scheduled hut for that night of their trip, they must camp. This still allows for freedom and flexibility, but doesn't rob anyone of a bed who is simply doing the walk as prescribed. The group of 5 in question were having a rest day at Kia Ora (no I was NOT eavesdropping) and so had already got their night indoors - if you wanna stay another, go outside. I am known for my kindness.

    Anyway, we weren't too worried, as we'd established ourselves by this point to be some of the fastest walkers, and if it came to fisticuffs, I was ready. Off we went.

    The falls today were a trio, D'Alton, Fergusson, and Hartnett. The first two were coupled together, reached by descending like a mountain goat down a slope for about 1km, where the path branched off, D'Alton to the left and Fergusson to the right. I can confidently say that D'Alton is one of the COOLEST WATERFALLS I've ever seen. Dylan practically had to drag me away from the cliff edge from where we stood to view it, muttering "okay danger queen, that's enough" as I jumped and jived with joy. Scale: immense. Water: thundering. Rock pools: aplenty. Forest mermaids: hiding I'm sure. I was torn between throwing myself down into it and selling my soul to a tree sprite so I could live there forever as its mystical and mossy guardian. But alas, we had to go.

    Loving some punishment, we sped our way back up the slope, heads down poles out, hiking with a vengeance back up to the main track. Continuing on, we came across another turn off, for Hartnett. Oh. I had forgotten this one, I thought we had seen them all back down the previous track. Hm. While I very much wished to go bananas over another stream of water, Dylan pointed out that the 5 packs strewn around the track junction indicated that The Stragglers were down there. This was our chance. With some regret involved, we soldiered on. Next time Hartnett, next time.
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  • Day Four - New Pelion to Kia Ora

    18 april 2024, Australien ⋅ 🌫 8 °C

    Those with an eye for patterns will have noticed I've been doing one post for the day's walking portion and one post for that night's hut. This post offers you a rare combo deal, as I only managed to take one picture of the walk...

    My excuse is that it was another rainy day today, meaning the phone stayed safely tucked away in a waterproof pocket. Also, more fog meant we couldn't see shit anyway. To be fair, the rain was forecast to be a downpour and we really only got a constant misty sprinkle, which was preferable.

    Today took us up up up to Pelion Pass, where we (apparently) passed through with two grand mountains either side of us - Ossa and Pelion East. I'll take their word on it. Then we descended the other side. A very simple journey, go up the hill and come back down.

    Kia Ora Hut is another of the new ones, although, a family of mice with an incredible sense of humour have taken up residence in the communal area heater, rendering it inoperable. These terrors are also responsible for venturing out in the night to gnaw through as many food supplies as they possibly can. We read about their exploits repeatedly in the hut journals that walkers leave entries in. I was not to be bested by a mouse, and took the (genius) measure of wrapping my food dry bag up in my stinky shirt. Smell the oat bars through that you whiskered shits. No, I take that back, mice are sweet, but keep your ickle paws off my snacks.

    I can tell you that this measure worked a treat. I should've shared it with The Girls, who were not so fortunate. Poor Hannah was treated to one of the little creatures RUNNING ACROSS HER FACE in the middle of the night, and apparently they lost a day's worth of food to the ferocious nibblers. I'm not sure what's worse, a mouse across your face or the reports in the hut journal of a girl shrieking in the middle of the night "there's a leech in my mouth there's a leech in my mouth!!!!" I think that one's a pretty clear winner actually.

    Anyway, this hut was a delight. The short day's walk meant a long time sitting around daydreaming about snacks we wished we had, but it also allowed time for the weather to clear. From our spot by one of the huge windows, a mountain slowly made its way out from the clouds. Cathedral Mountain, absolutely stunning. By its grand example, the rest of the area began to clear, and high hopes began to form for another fine day tomorrow.

    This hut was also the hut in which I discovered the 'hut selfie', an act I wish I'd made a daily feature. The process of trying to jump for the self timer at exactly the right moment produced results that were as entertaining as anything I could possibly hope for, being without wifi and reception.

    Kind regards,
    Velvet Worm xo
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