From Evernote:

Day 7

Cheese and rice.

Up at six today for a seven 45 start. Walkers heading west have told us this is a big day in both distance and mud. Last night it rained and rained. Mr Tarp put in a good performance and justified his price tag in a single evening. Without the tarp we'd be confined to the tent, with we had space to cook, a line to try and dry some gear and a even had guests around (Kim and Kerry).

This day had been billed as a big one by the guide book and a number of the walkers we met. certainly the ascent to Flat Rock was muddy but if you accept the mud rather than trying to dodge it we found we could make fair progress. It took us 6:30 to get across to Sandy Cape Rivulet.

The rain had swollen the rivulet and for a while it looked like there would be no way through. Eventually I found a route higher upstream, but it was fairly full on even for me. I asked Joe to brace the young Edmondson from the western side (her hind legs are on the short side) and together we made it across.

Just before Lion Rock Rachel sprinted ahead then hid in the bushes. I didn't notice her as a trudged by. When I got to Lion Rock, no Rachel. Oh dear. I left my walking sticks at the junction and was just about to search the campsite when she appeared on the beach behind me. Apparently she'd been waiting for me at a view point. (Q: why do I carry the distress beacon?)

Lion Rock promised a nice campsite but then the rain blew in. We enjoyed our unscheduled seventh meal in the tent. Cheese and Rice.

From Evernote:

Day 6

High drama in the west.

Tarp. Rain. Granite Beach.

Hole in the river crossing. Chest deep. Fast. Rachel wide eyed.

Tide high, waterfall in flood. Tight looking from a distance but opened out closer. Then cross river in spate.

Another day to raise the eyebrows.

From Evernote:

Day 5

A soft day.

Rachel and I lay in bed until after seven. Even then it was so dark I wasn't convinced it was time to get up. A light rain had been falling intermittently for most of the might and looked set to continue. In the forest we packed and ate.

<porridge Dutch oven story>

We walked along the beach and over the rocks. The track lifted from the next batch of sand into the scrub. The going over to Prion was nice and easy. At grotto creek there was a sign saying to wash your boots, probably for the guys coming the other way, but we washed anyway.

Then 4 km easy walking up Prion beach. Once again a scene untouched by humans. Not a building or a boat or even a line in the picture, just seagulls pecking a living from the receding waves.

Prion boats. Bash thumbs. Reminds me of childhood rowing.

Up and down ancient sand dunes to Milford Creek.

11 school kids. Track turns muddier. Loose my left leg into bog monster, bash right shin. Looked just the same as all the other mud.

Stay at Osmiridium Beach

From Evernote:

Day 4

Had to make a fast exit from the high camp. We had breakfast in bed, me crouching over a hot stove trying not to burn the tent down. In the tent it's quite warm enough to sit around in a t-shirt. With the tent down Rachel got very cold very quickly.

Both Bruce and the guide book had warned us about the descent from the Ironbounds; muddy, slippery and full of roots. And so it was. It's difficult to not to get frustrated by the slow progress. It took us an hour and a half to get down to the mid camp @ 390m. That's a journey of 900m according to the guide book. Just when you think it can't go on any further it goes on and keeps going. I maintained my humor to the bottom when I slipped and turned my ankle again.

Trenchfoot. I expected to the Six Foot marathon last week to have some impact; tired legs, twisted ankles, blisters. What I had not expected was trench foot. On the 6 foot you get wet feet at 15 and 20km. You then run the rest in wet shoes. I think this had sucked all the natural oils from the skin. Wet feet from wading on the South Coast Track and the soles of my feet were really sore.

Eventually we came down to Little Deadmans Cove. The wind here was still howling. We had lunch (laughing cow, pereroni and biscuits) then set out on the 1.5km to Deadmans Creek.

Liquid mud.

Time for a new rucksack unfortunately. Padding has broken down on chest and waist straps. I'll have to thank Darren for the use of his Pod for the last ten years.

Moved the cooking gear onto the beach so we can watch the sea over dinner.

Strong winds. A few thicker clouds. Still fine out to sea.

Q:'why does your rucksack stay heavier longer than a weekend in the blue mountains. I caught myself whinging today. How come when we're doing a weekend walk in the Blue Mountains the pack gets really light on the second day, yet now our packs are staying so heavy? Circular argument. In the Blueys we carry food for only 3 days, so one days food is a significant change. With 7 days you start heavier and stay heavier longer.

Camping in woodland east of Deadmans Creek. In bed by eight pm as I write this. Ainsley Harriet's couscous tonight with surprise veg. This followed by dried fruit in custard the old favorite. Moved the wine back out of my drink bottle into the one functioning wine bladder. Those things are not strong enough to sit on. Washed some clothes as well. Rachel noticed sores on my back where the rucksack has been chaffing. All in all a good day, weight becoming more manageable though the mud today was a shocker. Will wear gaiters again tomorrow.

Bent my left walking pole today. Fell over with it stuck in the mud. Not happy about that. Have to look at a bent one all day now.

From Evernote:

Day 3

Left Louisa bay for and easy days walk to Louisa river. The return to the main track took just over an hour; annoying considering how long it took us to get down there on the previous day.

We stopped and sat on a pile of boards to examine the Ironbound range in detail through the bins. Steep start, a ramp, steep again then easy over the top.

Arriving at the campsite at Louisa River at 12:30 we decided to press on to the high camp.

Sunshine made for a hot climb and we were quite high before the breeze started. Excellent views down to the coast. We've been able to see the Ironbound range since we started and now it returned the favor,showing us all the beaches we'd walked along and all the hills we'd climbed along the way.

From Evernote:

Day 2

Another fantastic day though harder than we intended. It was about nine when we finally left the camp. Another great day of weather, sunny but cool air.

Rachel almost picked up four faults at Black Cliffe but the tide was low enough for us to get around after scrambling over a couple of rocks. The walk up to Buoy Creek was easy enough.

Note: Point Eric is the better campsite. We made the right choice in staying there.

The Chapman book suggests Louisa Creek as the next campground in his ten day schedule. Bruce at the airstrip had suggested Louisa River, some two hours further as a good stop before tackling the Ironbound Mountains. In the end we decided on an extra day and a visit to Louisa bay. Here we are, just one other walker.

Beautiful bay, very isolated and a great camping spot. We are at the northern end. The book suggests 'gather water from some unreliable drips'. In a scoop in the rock, dark but not a cave, a couple of drips could be heard. I looked around- nothing else. We're not going to have enough I thought.

Rac and I rigged the tarp under the seepage. We had enough water for a cup of tea in just a few minutes. 'how do you like your seepage?' I asked Rachel.

From Evernote:

Day 1 part 2

Fantastic first day. Mark flew us into the World Heritage Area in a 1977 Cessna 172. Once you're clear of the logging it's pristine wilderness as far as the eye can see. Mark kept us just below the cloud ceiling, climbing as we headed west. It's the smallest plane I've ever been on - had trouble getting my big boots into the front.

The airstrip at Melaluca is a fat white band on the flat next to bathhurst harbor. We dropped sharply to take it from the south. I was expecting a dirt airstrip to give a rougher landing but it was surprisingly smooth.

Had only found out in Hobart that we needed something to put our fuel in, we purchased two liters before the flight. That made for a session of hasty coke swallowing. Looking at the bottles now there is a coke coloured bubble of water at the bottom of one of the bottles.

I didn't expect the scenery to be as good as it is. A full moon rises over a bueatiful bay.

Horror. Another human being on our beach. 7:44 pm where did they come from?

From Evernote:

Tasmania Diary

23.7 kg for Darrens pack 16 odd for Rachel. Dry weight, no fuel or water.

Six am Saturday morning and the rain is pouring down. Buckets of water slap down from the patio above.

On of the reasons for doing the South Coast Track late in the season was to give La Nina a chance to fizzle out. That hadnt worked out for Australia in general and in Sydney the rain had come down hard all night. Sydney is a long way from Tasmania; maybe we'll be alright.

We are also overweight by about 14 kg. $10 per kg is the way that normally works out. This is our longest ever walk between food drops; 7 days straight so we have over 40 kg of gear. A lot of that is food and booze; about 12 kg of dried food and 3 of wine. We also have a (limited) amount of extra clothing to cope with the increased duration and possible bad weather- a spare pair of underpants and a jumper. I also have too many gadgets with a GPS and an a satellite tracker and a pair of binoculars.

Still, things will get lighter as we travel plus the first couple of days are not hard.

From Evernote:

Wacky Races

This year I have excelled in entering a diverse range of races.

Yesterday I completed the 6 foot track marathon, a 45km cross country run. In June I'll be doing my first Ironman (3.8km swim, 180km cycle and full marathon). Rachel has always wanted to do a marathon so in July we're off to Alice Springs for the outback marathon around Ayers Rock.

All that's a precursor the to Simpson Desert Challenge in October.

The Six Foot track entry came as a bit of a surprise. The entries open at nine and this year sold out in seven minutes. Despite having all the alarms set, sh1t happened at work and I didn't enter until 12:00 noon. That placed me at 102 on the veterans wait list. About a month out they reorganized and I dropped to 45 on the vets waitlist. I thought 'no way I'll make this' and so decided not to run. It's was a surprise to get the invitation at the end of February.

Physiologically, the 6ft is a good one to have in the bag. I reckon that success or failure in the Ironman will come down to the marathon: during the swim I can float with the tide, the cycle will be a lot easier than some of my training rides what with Tar-macadam as a surface; the marathon however will be something of a stinker. The 6ft is much more than a marathon, 60% more if you compare duration. It's good to think that maybe that's how hard the Ironman marathon will feel and yes, you can do it.

Incidentally, Ollie's running mates thought I was mad to carry a backpack and even madder to carry 3 liters of fluid. Maybe that's true, certainly it's become a habit for me to be self sufficient during training runs. I drank my 3 liters plus about another six cups of water and two of coke from the aid stations. For food i had the sports drink and a couple of vegimite sandwiches. Sounds odd bit the salty/savory vegimte was most welcome. I was fine for fluid and fuel - no dehydration headache, no hunger knock.

Setting out just to finish there was no need to push too hard at the start. Stupidly, I turned my ankle after the steps at only 20 minutes. It hurt a lot when I stopped for a pee but I limped off and soon managed to run through it and run straight. (note to self - contact lenses next time so you can see where you are going. It's too dark on that first section for sunglasses )

At the Cox's River we were on about 5:30 pace. I had already taken the decision to walk most of the hill. Working from my heart rate monitor I set a pace of 150bpm. If I could hold this walking, I walked. The first climb up to Mini-mini saddle flew by as did the second up to the pluivometer.

Six footers say if you can reach the pluviometer at 25km and still be smiling, you're home and hosed. That's true, though the long drag up the Black Range is where your aches and pains come out to taunt you. There are times in marathon running where things just hurt and you wonder what possessed you to enter the race in the first place. A couple of Km into the black range and my ankle started to make it's displeasure known.

At about 30km a couple of peels of thunder announced the arrival of a storm. The rain hissed through the forest, drumming off the peak of my cap. I arranged my Pertex top to keep the rain off my backpack. I didnt want to carry another kilo of wet cloth.

The deviation (35km) is the top of the course. From here, disregarding the uphill bits, it's all downhill. 200m from the turn I rolled my ankle again. Then again, and again. Billhooks! I was now limping quite badly, unable to walk or run. For the first time I had doubts about finishing.

Of came the pertex, off came the rucksack and out came the ibuprofen. I took 2 with little hope they would make a difference. I walked off, jogging where I could, wary of the rough bits of the track.

The track after the road is better, smoother and well formed. It's here I reckon that the milestones add in that extra kilometer.

A Scottish bumble bee threw his head back and screamed at the forest. Mr Crampy had bitten his thigh.

'Pain is weakness leaving the body' advised another runner. I considered this for the next kilometer but I couldn't get my head around it. As a source of strength or humor it left me unmoved. Meanwhile the ibuprofen, reinforced by a continuous stream of Anglo-Saxon expletives had restored my ankle to a functioning condition.

Down, down, down. That killer descent to the finish. Burning quads. Dicky ankle. Nothing could stop me. I was going to make it.