The Not-So-Plain Plains: Part 4

[Waiting for me on a previous walk]

But on this walk, I am the PFAer nonpareil. So, knowing we have an early departure planned for our last day, I choose to play a different game. It goes something like this.

Move 1. Wake up excessively early. Yes, it’s not even 6am; it’s cold and dark, and the forest is dripping. But the rain has stopped. Up you get!

Move 2. Push aside any guilt you feel about ruining the quiet. You can’t wriggle out of a sleeping bag, deflate a sleeping mat, and stuff all your bits and pieces into bags without making an unreasonable amount of noisy rustling.

Move 3.  Go to the kitchen area, and find that water has pooled on the tarp roof. Further ruin the peace by splooshingthe water onto the ground. That’ll be sure to rouse the others from their tents!

Move 4. Forget about normal breakfast. A muesli bar will keep you going. No muesli bar? Never mind, a Snickers Bar or two is the breakfast of champions. And they’re just great with cold water.

Move 5. As the others amble into the kitchen area, greet them cheerfully, then stand up in an obvious way and go off to finish your packing.

Move 6. While the others have whatever they’re having for breakfast (don’t look; don’t envy!) go off into the forest for your toilet time.

Move 7. Your packing done, it’s time to buckle on your pack, lean nonchalantly against a tree, whistling and waiting. Better still, offer to help the others get ready. They probably won’t accept your offer, but you’ll have made your point.

 

In truth I may not have played the game this perfectly on our last morning. But – wonders will never cease – I am actually ready to leave with the others! 

 

That said, if I think that was the hard part, I am soon proven wrong. Tim has a plan, an untested one. Knowing how difficult our scrubby ascent onto the Februaries had been, he’s studied the maps, and thinks a direct descent towards the Wurragarra Creek can’t be worse. 

[Let the scrub bashing begin!]

We’re soon struggling through chest high scoparia and tea tree, and our trust in Tim is faltering. On our way in it had taken us around 90 minutes to get through the scrub. And that was uphill. Surely this couldn’t be worse? The answer to that may seem subjective, but sheer arithmetic must come into it. Yes it’s downhill, but we take over 100 minutes of rough, wet scrub bashing to reach the Wurragarra. I complicate matters by attempting an “alternative” crossing of the creek. When I finally crawl out of the scrub and join the others on the far bank, they’ve been waiting 15 minutes. That’s PFAing of which I’m not proud! I‘ve torn my trousers, have scrub debris down my neck, in my pockets, and through my beard and hair. If this morning’s walk is a game, I doubt even 0.5% of bushwalkers would buy it!

[A blaze on a creek-side pine - click to enlarge]

Tim is still upbeat, and assures us we’re almost out to the Arm River Track. Before that he stops to show us a very old and elaborate blaze on a pencil pine beside the creek. He tells us it’s older than those made by trappers and hunters, but relates to what was once called the Mole Creek Track. The blaze was probably cut in the late 1890s to mark a creek crossing point. It’s likely it was the work of surveyor E.G. Innes and/or his team as they surveyed potential railway routes.

[The scrub thinning, Mt Pillinger behind]

 

[Walking towards Mt Pillinger through coral fern]

By now the scrub has thinned out. Straggly, strangling shrubs give way to carpets of coral fern. It’s low, tough, deep green and makes for easy walking. We swish through the fern percussively, and soon reach the Arm River Track. It feels like a highway after our days of off-track walking, and we are glad of the fast and easy walking. 

[On the Arm River Track at last]

Merran and Libby lead off, and Tim and I bring up the rear. As the women pass a commercial walking group coming up the track, they nod and say hello, but don’t stop for a chat. However they’re sure we will. Not only does Tim love a good chat, but he and Merran’s son works for that walking company. And sure enough, as soon as we meet them we’re conversing with the head guide, whose boss is Tim and Merran’s son. We ask how their clients are coping with this “non-Overland Track” section of the Overland Track; a temporary change brought about by the loss of their second night hut in the February 2025 bushfires. He tells us that some walkers are fine with it, but others find the Arm River Track quite arduous.

[In rainforest on the Arm River Track - photo by Tim]

We wave them off, secretly glad to be going the opposite way. We’re soon delighting in the changing surrounds: now deep rainforest, now open heath. And then we hit the switch-backs, which start to feel never-ending. The constant downhill thumping takes its toll on the soles of our feet. Mine feel hot and on the edge of blistering. But there’s only one way to get this job done. “Soldier on” is a phrase literally made for this kind of persistent plodding. And it gets us there, back to the car in which we’re soon speeding back to Sheffield. There a café lunch together rounds off another great wilderness walk. We are feeling the privilege of being among the “0.5%” of walkers who’ve been where we’ve just been.

[What a privilege to walk in such places!]

Nature is home, even if we live in cities. I’m a writer based in Tasmania, Australia. I love learning and writing about the natural world, from the smallest bugs to the broadest landscapes.
http://twitter.com/#!/auntyscuttle

Source: http://www.naturescribe.com/2025/05/the-not-so-plain-plains-part-4.html