Author: Karen Griffiths

After a chat with the young family, I was off to walk to a campsite just out of Mylor about 16km away.  A good 7am start to the day.

Up and down through forestry trails and farmland, it should be a nice day.

After walking through a forest for about 5km I had an attack of SVT (Racing heart) . I tried all my usual tricks to flick the switch and get my heart back into a proper rhythm  but nothing worked. I coughed, squatted, held my nose and blew, had a poo, sat down and blew into a syringe until I was blue in the face, then swept my legs up into the air, but nothing worked.  I drank water and had some food, rested then tried it all again.

Just ignore it, I said. Stupid bloody electrics should work properly.

I staggered up a few hills, hardly able to get one foot in front of the other,  for another hour and a half before collapsing  on the side of the track, hands and feet tingling and my eyesight going funnier than it usually is.

I remembered a similar episode when I was walking Te Araroa when I struggled on, with the help of other walkers,  for 5 hours before reaching a hut. There I was pressured into using my PLB personal locator beacon) to call for  rescue helicopter.  My heart settled down in the chopper and the hospital deemed me to be a very fit lady and to carry on with Te Araroa, which I did, after  couple of days rest at my brother’s in Nelson.  I had walked about 1,700km before that episode and continued to do another 1,300km.

This time I was on my own, and not sure what to do, so I rang the SA Emergency number, which I had put in my phone on the advise of the Friends of the Heysen Trail. They listened to me blubbering my symptoms, then told me to hang up and ring 000. 

I did not want to do that. I have already been involved in 7 rescue helicopter episodes and was not keen to add to that tally.   So I kept trying  to sort it for another 40 minutes, but I had no luck. I hardly had the energy to get myself wrapped in the foil blanket as I was getting very cold and shakey.

So I rang 000 at 10.45, giving them my exact location thanks to my Farout app. I was less than 1km from a road.  It wasn’t long before an ambulance, from nearby city, Mt Barker,  arrived along the bumpy forest track. I was very relieved and began blubbering again. I am not usually a blubbering person, but needs must.

The lovely ambo lady was very excited to be on this job, being a hiker herself.  They had been accompanied by police to the road end so they could cut the chains on the gate.  I wonder if I will get a bill for that.

They quickly had the monitors on me and determined that I needed to go to hospital as I definitely had some funny traces going on. I felt much better as soon as I was in that ambulance.

The Ambo lady  was very envious of my gear and had a good poke around my pack. She kept saying that she was so excited to meet me and that the doctor on duty had also walked the Heysen and would be interested in my gear.  What about my heart, I thought.

Mt Barker hospital was amazing, unlike my lical hospitalin New Zealand where half dead people waited 48 hours. I was seen straight away. They brought me sandwiches,  hot coffee, a heart specialist, blood tests, a new survival blanket, soup sachets and some small  muesli packets for my pack.

After being tested, pocked and prodded I was deemed fit to go on my way. Everything was back to normal and my blood levels were all good.

So now what? I think the universe, or something,  was telling me that the Heysen is not for me. I did not want to risk that happening again; I was embarrassed about it all,  even though they told me I did exactly the right thing calling the ambulance.

So I walked out of the hospital, caught a bus across the road, and was back in Adelaide, at the Tequila Sunrise Hostel, in time for dinner.

The next day, I met up with an old  friend from New Zealand,and met her lovely Aussie  children for the first time.

The following day I was on a plane to my cousin’s in Melbourne, the Heyson Trail behind me.  Not my best adventure!

Note to self: no more solo hiking in the off-season! I’ve realised I genuinely miss the “trail chatter”—passing friendly faces during the day and debriefing over camp stoves at night. I tried branching out and making friends with the local wildlife, but kangaroos are terribly one-sided conversationalists.

I told myself that today was going to be a fantastic day, and it was. I waited on the highway for only about 5 minutes for a ride. I climbed in with a lovely  man who was heading to the hospital to attend  a planned cesarean birth of his 3rd son. I think he was a bit nervous, so wanted a distraction.  

The nice Dad-to-be dropped me at the correct intersection, and I hadn’t even gotten my gear sorted before a “Driving Miss Daisy” car pulled over and welcomed me aboard.

This nice man said he did the Driving  to keep himself busy in his retirement. He covered a large country area and met lots of people and kept out of his wife’s hair.

This nice man told me he loved New Zealand and had even been to Palmerston North. Unusual! Then he shared that he had been married 3 times in New Zealand.

I wasn’t sure whether I should  congratulate  or to commiserate. He then added that he had been happily married to the same woman for 40 years, and they got remarried every 5 years,  mostly as an excuse for an overseas holiday. Three of them had been in New Zealand.

He dropped me at the camp gate, wanting a photo of a Karen from Palmerston North to show his wife.

Being school holidays, the Chookarloo Campsite was filled with families. Nice to see.

I had a cuppa, a call with my son Cameron from Perth and then off for  an easy 9km walk to Rocky Creek camp acrossing  some weet-bix farms and forestry trails. 

There was a nice family at the Rocky Creek Cottage who were on their first camping trip. They had a tent to pitch but wanted the option of using the cottage if sleeping in the tent all turned to custard.

I was the only one camping as it is just a walk in site for hikers. I’m pretty sure I heard some Koalas during  the night grunting at eachother but I didn’t manage to spot any in the morning.

The family hadn’t had a successful night with the wife and 2 of the 3  kids saying they were never going camping again!  Apparently, no one liked the long drop, there were too many scarey noises in the night, and they were all cold and uncomfortable. By 2am, Dad gave in, and they packed up to go into the cottage to get some sleep. Howeve,  they had left the door open,  so the cottage was alive with big moths and mosquitos, and there could also be  poisonous snakes and spiders hiding underneath  the bunks.  Apparently, this experience was nothing like the YouTube show “Outdoor Boys” that Dad had been watching with them in preparation for this holiday.

I suggested that the next trip, he should take the one slightly enthusiastic child and leave the rest at home. 

After another couple of days wandering around Victor Harbour, I left on Monday, public holiday, bus 8.30am, arriving at the trail from Mt Compass to Chookaroo campsite at 9am.   This is a 30km day along rolling  back country roads through forestry blocks, farms, and 4 conservation parks.   Finnis, Mount Magnificent, Kyeema, and Kuitpo.

I knew i had no chance of making it through to the campground before dark,  so planned to wild camp along the way.  Quite against the rules but I hoped to be able to find a spot where I wouldn’t be detected and would leave no trace.  This meant I needed 2 full days of water, 4kg, so I had a heavy pack.

But the day didn’t start well. The nice bus driver (this time) said he knew where the trail crossed the highway, and he would stop for me if there wasn’t too much traffic behind him.   I was pleased when he pulled over. However, apon looking at my map, I saw that he had stopped too soon so I had a 2km walk up the highway to the start. Now it coukd be a 32km day. Not far in a car but a 9-10 hour walk for me and there was definitely not going to be enough time in the day to do that.

So off I trudged  checking my map when I arrived at the correct road. Walk along this for 2.5km, then the trail went off across farmland.  About an hour up the road hadn’t seen any signs, so I checked my app to see that I was only supposed to go down the road 250 metres not 2.5kms   Grrr the only time I get lost is at the start of a day.

I trudged back 2.5km now giving myself a 37km day and it was now after 11am.

The walk was actually quite nice that day, a few steep hills in the sun,  and I found an abandoned berry farm to have lunch #1.

I got through Finniss Park and then stopped for lunch #2 to find that my 3 litre water bladder had been leaking and I had very little water left. Definitely not enough to get me through the rest of the day and all of the next day.

There was a farm up ahead that the trail went through so I planned to call into the farmhouse and see if I could get some water and maybe somewhere to camp. Best case scenario, they would feel sorry for this silly old kiwi lady and give me a bed for the night. 

Worst case scenario was something out of the iconic Australian horror film “Wolf Creek” where I would be split along my spine and become a head on a stick.

BUT I needed to walk through a paddock full of cows first. They were big mothers and their half grown calves. I got through the gate and started up the track as they became  very vocal and just kept coming at me, mooing very loudly. 

Now, yes ,I know they were just curious, and I needed to keep walking through them. But I have to admit that I was too scared and took off back through the gate.  Where are my farming friends, Kay Garland and Francis Karl, when I need them?

I really told myself off for being so silly and had a  second try, only to chicken out again.  Can you believe that I was brave enough to risk being tortured by  a deranged Australian but was scared of a paddock full of cows??

It was 4pm, I had very little water left and all along the trail, there had been signs saying “No Camping”,  “Private property” etc. They were obviously not a hiker friendly lot around here.

I had walked 12km of the trail plus the extra 7km, totally 19km. I was tired and annoyed with myself. I needed a buddy to spur me on. This solo hiking is hard work because I rarely win an argument with myself.

So decided I just had to walk back where I had come, back to the safety of the highway and a caravan park at Mt Compass, near where the bus driver had let me off this morning. 

After about 7km, I was trudging (I note that I keep saying “trudging” as this all felt like damn hard work) along a back country road, thinking I was very unlikely to get a hitch.   But my luck finally came in, and a lady with 2 kids in the car stopped.  She had seen me walking up the road in the morning,  pointing me out to her kids as a Heysen Trail walker. So she was surprised to see me later in the day walking back the other way and was curious.

I explained my bad day, so she drove me right  back to the Mt Compass caravan park.  Lovely family. I did my usual speech to the kids that they were not allowed to hitch hike until they had grey hair. I don’t want to be a bad influence.

I put my tent up,  had a shower, chatted to a few campers, ate my dinner then collapsed into my bed, not happy with myself.

Tomorrow, I am going to hitch to the Chookarloo Campsite then walk the easy 12km to the next stop, Rocky Campsite.

I am not up to doing 30km days. I do remember easily doing 30-40km  days on Te Araora,  but that was after having walked 1,500km and being a lean fit machine.  That is not me today. It’s my own fault. Karen, you need to do better!

I took my time packing up that morning because it was drizzling a bit so by the time I left at 8am, it was just off into the wind. Across another farm and then back onto the cliffs trying to stay upright in the wind. I was really starting to enjoy myself as my bag was lighter and I was meeting more day walkers as I got closer to the town of Vistor Harbour.

By 11am I’d come to a car park was full of cars owned by the people out walking themselves and their dogs. I still had another 5 or 6km walk into town and a coffee and a shower was sounding good.

So I approached a man who was loading his 2 dogs into his car and told him that he couldn’t possibly let this poor old lady eat a lunch of fish wrap for her 5th day in a row. He could give me a ride into town so I could enjoy a decent lunch. The dogs were very excited, so I made a big fuss of them as I loaded my pack into the boot of his car.

The poor bloke hadn’t uttered a word and just looked at me as I climbed into the front seat of his car. The little dog curled up on my knee and the big dog began to enthusiastically lick my neck face, up under my glasses and my hair. He obviously loved the sweaty salty taste of 5 days of unwashed kiwi. I am not really keen on dogs licking me, but a ride is a ride.

By the time we reached the centre of town the nice man had got over the shock of having unwittingly picked up his first ever hitch hiker and offered to buy me lunch.

I declined saying that there was no way I could go to a cafe smelling as I did. I needed to have a shower and a change of clothes first . So off he went with a story to tell!

I bought a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a sweat shirt from the 3 for $5 rack at the Charity shop next door to the hotel, which meant I had some clean clothes to wear after my shower. I had booked into a historic hotel that was mentioned in the trail notes for $65 a night with a shared bathroom down the hall. That would do me.

They nicely let me check in early and I headed off to have  a shower.  There i got the fright of my life.  There was a big poo 💩  in the bottom of the shower.

I went off and found the manager, telling him that there was something in the shower that shouldn’t be there that he needed to see.

Poor man was as surprised as me and very apologetic. I know most people would have up and lefthowever I was too tired for that.   It would have been noticed very shortly by the cleaner , but, ofcourse,  I had checked in early. He showed me to another shower block and I enjoyed feeling clean again.

I found out that “my” footie team lost the grand final over a coffee ☕️

I have spent 4 days here in the retirement mecha / beachside resort town  allowing a couple of blisters to heal and doing some online work with my employer.  Being school holidays there is a lot of families around and the restaurants are filled with Grey haired people.

The streets reminded me a bit of English beachside villages with shops selling shell ornaments,  plastic kids toys and sandals and lots of cafes. The main differences were that the streets and footpaths were wider, there are veranahs above the shops and it was warm.

I have filled my pack with food again and head out tomorrow,  1 October, moving away from the coast towards Myponga.

I walked another 17km to the Kurri Ngawanthi/Creek walk-in site and I was getting my tramping legs and mind back. I was still slow, taking 8.5 hours but I had some good breaks and didn’t arrive completely knackered. This day started off through bush roads and along some stunning cliffs. The kangaroos were up early with me

After about 8 km came a 4.5km beach walk and as it was high tide I didn’t have much hard sand to walk on. As my legs began to complain I reminded them that they survived walking 100km of beach on the first 4 days of Te Araroa, so they could just shut up their whining and walk!

At the end of the beach there was a very steep climb up a grassy hill and onto a farm. It was so steep that there was a chain to use to pull us up with. I needed that for sure but felt good when I made it to the top.

I got a little bit off track on the farm, but it didn’t really matter too much. I chatted with a few cows during the day but they didn’t have much to say back.

Arriving at the camp there was a one-eyed lady who was very chatty, so I got my first dose of real human interaction for 3 days. She had done quite a bit of hiking in Japan that interested me as Japan is on my wish list. It drizzled most of the night, so I woke with a wet tent to pack up.

Day 4 Wet and Windy

I left with all my rain gear on, including a poncho made out of my Tyvek groundsheet. I found my way out of camp well this morning.

Going over a very slippery farm track I was pleased, and surprised that I managed to stay upright. Then along the coast again high above the ocean followed by steep descents down to the beach for a couple of beach walks. It was very windy, so I gave up on the poncho in case it turned into a sail and sent me out to sea.

I was quite cold and could have stopped to add a layer under my raincoat but chose to speed up and just get to the Sand Dunes walk-in camp. It was only a 14km, 5 hour day today. Much more manageable especially with less food and water on board.

I was the only one at the camp, so I put up a line to dry my wet clothes and tent. I cooked up a packet of chicken soup and ate another fish wrap ( I don’t enjoy them as the fish sachets remind me of the sachets of cat food my daughter feed her cat). Note to self to find something else for lunches on the next section. I do miss the Redgum food options!!!

I erected the dry tent and had a snuggle in my sleeping bag to warm me up properly, reading a light book with decent sized print and a bad storyline. The first 2 attributes are important when a half blind, old lady has to carry a book. The content doesn’t matter too much.

I didn’t even have a wash as, after 4 days, a sweaty body is the norm. No amount of body washing is going to overpower the smell of the clothes I have worn for 4 days straight.

These walk-in camps have been recently replaced after devastating bush fire last season. I had a good night in my new Big Agnes 2 person tent even though it takes a bit more time to set up and take down.

I was up at 4am to catch my first Uber to the Perth airport. We only ran one red light, which gave me and the driver a big fright. Luckily, there was no other traffic at that intersection. Note to self: Don’t talk to Uber drivers as they can get distracted by my interesting conversation at 4 in the morning.

I flew on the budget airline,Virgin, so there was no in-flight entertainment screen and no food.  However, the coffee and water were sufficient, as it was only a 2.5-hour flight. So I slept and detoxed from screen life, making up for my early rise.

I caught a bus into the city alighting with a young woman from England, who was going to the same hostel as me. I immediately put her in charge of directions and we walked and talked the 3 blocks to the Tequila Sunrise Hostel.

I know some of my followers have never stayed in a hostel, and some definitely have no ambition to ever do so.  But if you are curious  here are some details, FYI

For $49 AUD a night, and I have my own sleeping pod in a 12 pod room. My pod is a nice cosy space with a fan, light, plenty of shelves, high enough to comfortably sit up, and plenty long enough for tall people. In the room, there are shoe  lockers and an underbed  storage box  that is as long as the bed, so it easily fits my pack.

I hardly saw any of my roommates, and the only snorer had a lovely rhythm that reminded me of Garry’s snoring, so I was lulled to sleep, remembering that today is 21 years since he died. I wonder  if I would have been doing these long walks with him. 

Included in the $49 is dinner and breakfast. So at 6.45pm, there is 160 hungry backpackers lined up for dinner. There is plenty of good basic food and enough for seconds and to pack for lunch the next day.   The food arrives fresh each day and is prepared in the communal kitchen by the staff who are  backpackers who were staying here.

Breakfast was a choice of 6 different cereals a variety of yoghurts milks ,  fresh fruit toast and spreads.  Ham cheese, toastues, pancakes,orange juice, many flavours of tea, coffee.   It’s fantastic.

The place was alive and buzzing because of the shared meals, in contrast with some hostels i’ve stayed at over the last few years where the people are all sitting around on their phones not interacting with each other.  This was really great to see young people interacting and enjoying a company of eachother.

I needed to buy some Easiyo yoghurt powder to mix with my muesli on the trail.  It proved quite a difficult job being a city supermarket, and not selling such things. I went out to suburban shopping center on the bus 3.8k’s.  I didn’t have any even thoughi had rung up and was told they stocked it.  On arrival, I hear yes they do stock it, however, it is out of stock today… then it’s 3.8k, walk back into town as the next bus is not for an hour and I am not good at waiting.

So the next day, I walk 5.5km out to another shopping center where I was lucky enough to get what I needed. The bus back at an 18 minute wait, I thought, well  walk, get some training in  I can’t walk 4 or 5K around  town how am I going to walk eight hundred kilometres on the trail.

Walking through a city is the best way to see it and get a feel for the people who live there. The locals are either all very healthy and happy people or the exact opposite. I walked past places to get your feet fixed, your back fixed, your teeth,  eyes and hands sorted. Every one of your bits would feel wonderful after visiting every business along this road. There was even a couple of Adult Shops for those other bits! 

Along with those, I came across numerous places to fix your mental health and well-being.  Yoga retreats, massage parlors, hypnotherapy, couples therapy, youth counseling, and everything you could need to fix any number of problems a person could have.

Adelaide ciyy centre is typical of any major city in the world. There is a mixture of old and new buildings  with buses and trams to get around, and the  main part of the city is grided, so it’s easy relatively easy not to get lost.

I went to the museum which was interesting full of big stuffed animals and lots of Aboriginal history and artifacts. 

I had a quick run around  the Art Gallery (I am not very art) and the library. The library was really lovely.

I also went and got my tramping haircut, which cost me $75, but I won’t need another one of those for 6 or 8 weeks. The hairdresser was a chatty lady who arrived from Vietnam as an 11 year old just after the war. She  bemoaned her entitled kids who couldn’t understand what the difference between wants and needs were.

I had a couple of purchases to make, gas bottle, lighter and I found a new bumper bag that will work better than my Dad’s one that i have been using.  The guy in the shop commented that mine looked like something straight out of the ’80s, which is probably quite accurate. We cringed at the photos of Dad on his travels from back at that time with his bum bag. But it has lasted the test of time.

I, sadly, put it in the “Free stuff” box at the hostel, and it was gone the next morning.  I wonder if it was a collector of vintage artifacts or a backpacker who would actually use it and jeep it traveling.