Thursday, May 22, 2008

Fraser Fiasco

Jon and I were supposed to go on a three day bush walking trip to Fraser Island just north of our house to knock off some miles on the Great Walk. The Great Walks are an initiative of Queensland Parks establishing six multi-day hikes in various places of "beauty" in the state. Fraser Island is a World Heritage Areas as it is the largest sand island in the world.

Now, I had never heard of World Heritage sites or UNESCO before I moved to Oz, so find out what World Heritage sites you have visited.

Anyway, back to turn of fate that made the weekend very interesting. Our plans were sidetracked when Jon was asked to handle a remote call over the weekend meaning he could venture outside a half an hour radius of the hospital.

So, I made the bold decision to go it alone. How bad could it be, I thought? The other times I was up on the Island there were heaps of people around and the Great Walks seem to be fairly popular, so I surely wouldn't be camping in the middle of no where by myself.

I couldn't have been more wrong. It was all downhill from there.

On Saturday morning, the weather looked a bit dodgy, but Jon and I rented a car for me to drive the 3 hours up to the barge landing, so I felt obligated to go. After checking the weather forecast and seeing that it called for 10% showers all weekend, I decided to drive up to Hervey Bay to the barge and see if the weather cleared. Blue skies greeted me at the barge landing, so I purchased my walk-on ticket and weaved my way through the numerous 4WDs to find a seat on the upper deck. I should have realised I was a fool when I was the only person walking onto the barge.

The trip over on the barge was beautiful. Dolphins were chasing the barge and playing in the wake, the sun was shining and the weather seemed to have turned for the better. As I walked off the barge with my big purple pack, all of the cars honked and gave me the big thumbs up and I flashed them a hang loose. Miraculously, as I was walking away from the barge my cell phone rang (I never expected service out here) and I was able to have a quick conversation with Jon wishing me luck on my walk.

As I followed the access road to the trail, my pack seemed to lighten and I covered the first 10km fairly quickly. Perhaps, I got a bit over ambitious and decided after a quick lunch at Central Station that I would push on the trail to the freshwater lakes walker's camp about another 10km further down the trail.

I started to get a little nervous as the trail descended further and further away from the road and deeper into the rain forest. The brush on the trail hadn't been disturbed in a good long while; I was climbing over fairly large fallen branches and the leaf bed hadn't been disturbed in weeks. About two hours into my hike off the beaten path, I faced a decision: I was far enough away from more populated Central Station to make turning around mean I would be hiking after dark and I still had high hopes that there would be other walkers in the camp and that made me feel safe. My biggest fear was I would be alone and in danger of something bad happening where no one would know.

Of course, my fears were exacerbated as I hiked onward. It started to rain. Not just rain, but pour. Sand and heaps of rain make walking tedious; it was like walking through wet cement - with 30lbs on your back. However, this wasn't a stroll on the beach in the rain, it was lovely rolling hills - rolling hills of wet freaking cement knowing that I might be walking further and further away from everyone on the island.

As I reached the banks of Lake Benarron walker's camp, wet and exhausted, I was lucky enough to have a break in the weather just long enough to set up my tent. There was absolutely no one else in the walker's camp, so I had prime pick of campsites and heaps of time for my fears to run wild. That they did - not shortly after my arrival, the excitement started when I had some four legged friends come out to enjoy the late afternoon sunshine with me. That's right, as I was just about to make dinner 6 wet, cranky dingoes emerged out of the woods. Now, they are only known to assault children, but they appearance of the pack made me *consider* thinking of sleeping within the safe wooden walls of the composting toilet that smelt like Jon's socks x 1 million.

I made the decision to sleep in the tent. So, here I am, alone, wet, tired and in the woods 10kms from the nearest person with 6 dingoes prowling for food. Since I really did not feel like sharing my noodles with a pack of wild dogs and for lack of a better idea, I took out the small Nalgene shampoo bottle I had filled with tequila, took the two shots that were in there along with the Benadryl capsules I packed for emergency allergic reactions and snuggled into my sleeping bag to read. It was the only way there would be any sleep tonight.

I had packed two books with me: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert and Bill Bryson's Walk in the Woods. I was reading the Bryson book and just as I hear the bristle of fur brush against my sheath of green nylon, I was reading about Bryson's first encounter with a bear on the AT.

Eventually, the anti-histamines and tequila took over. A little bit of sleep came, until I shot awoke turning on the head lamp to try and scare them off. Over and over, what a long night. I would drift in and out of sleeping waking to -



Sniff, Sniff. Shuffle, Shuffle,


Shriek (some small animal.)


Snap. (Bones of said small animal)


Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.


Repeat.

I would fall in and out of sleep to these sound wondering if whatever was outside would try to make it into my tent. Even though dingoes aren't that big, it was incredibly unnerving and incredibly scary. I have had bears come into camp and been less frightened because I had someone with me. Here I was knowing that no one could hear me if I screamed and no one was expecting me back for two days. My heart actually burned with fear.

The coming of morning was never so welcome. Silence reigned over the woods, still I was afraid to leave the safety of my tent. After an hour of tossing and turning and reading, I mustered up the courage to venture outside. Other than paw prints in the sand, there was no evidence of anyone else being there that night.

I quickly packed up the tent and after having a short battle with the Huntsman that was living with my food in the dingo proof container, I decided to cut my trip short and head back the way I came in hopes of catching the 4pm ferry.

I was thankful that the hike was uneventful back to Central Station. Upon arrival, I had a good laugh at the backpackers that crawled into the dingo-proof food locker and were locked in by there travelling companions. They came back 20 minutes later after the boys had tried every way out of the enclosure, only to prove their comedic intelligence by pretending to poop pine cones.

Knowing rain was in the forest, I set back out on the boring part of the hike - the access road. I hiked along the road that was well worn path. It was boring a tedious hiking. By the time I reached the last 2 km point, I had a feeling there was no way I would make the 2pm barge because the backpacker vehicles were whipping past me. I trudged on.

As I passed the 1 km mile marker, I began to curse everyone and everything in existence. Out of no where a pink 4WD vehicle from Fraser Roving (the same hostel I drove out of a year before) stopped and gave me the high sign to pop in the back.

I was so incredibly thankful to hop in the back that I felt ashamed when they were so excited that I had cigarettes and lollies.

They smoked my last few cigarettes, gorged themselves on my leftover food and I donated my leftover noodles to their trips onward to Sydney and Airlie Beach. I gained insight into traffic laws in Sweden, Korea, Germany, France, and the Netherlands.

I had never been so thankful to see a rented car and get behind the wheel. I was only gone 24 hours, but it felt so good to call Jon again. That night taught me that I can be strong and survive on my own, but the whole experience is more pleasurable if there is someone by my side.

There are no pictures from this trip because of the pouring rain that nearly destroyed the camera =)

2 comments:

Christine said...

You're way more brave than I. At many points in your story I would have been curled up in the fetal position waiting for the authorities to come get me. You're my hero of the day. =)

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