Day 17 hiking the Australian Alps Walking Track solo

Australian Alps Walking Trail, Hiking, Trail Journal

Foggy ridgelines, damp forest trails and a creekside crossroads—one day I’m Xena, the next a butterfly, torn between home and the trail.

Johnies Top to Taylor’s Crossing (23.6km) | TOTAL – 374.1km

Last night was the first evening I slept right through, waking minutes before my 5.30am alarm. The generator fired up moments later.

I can only assume the wind and rain were quite mild. There was a thick fog in the air for the first hour or so, with about five metres of visibility.

From camp, I followed a well-formed 4WD track, lined with white and grey gums, which were home to a plethora of birds (including rosellas).

There was a fresh eucalyptus scent in the air.

While the track was lined by trees, every so often I would catch glimpses of misty mountain ranges to both the south and north.

After several kilometres descending, I veered off the 4WD track to an unmarked but relatively easy to follow foot trail.

Winding its way through a dense and damp forest, the track required constant ducking, weaving and climbing over fallen tree limbs and overgrown bushes.

It was a beautiful section. Mushrooms sprouted at the bottom of giant tree trunks, bright green moss covered rocks and decomposing tree limbs, and the long leaves of tropical bushes dangled overhead.

The thick forest opened up after a few kilometres, with the trail becoming more faint and difficult to follow.

With spaced apart track markers, I referred to my GPS regularly to confirm my position, and on two occasions, to rejoin the trail. This section included a rocky outcrop, where footpads became non-existent, but luckily cairns had been placed along the way.

Very boisterous, chatty birds kept me company as I descended to Benambra-Corryong Road, where their beautiful chirps were replaced by the regular drone of engines.

I reflected on the trail today, that at times I have felt like Xena the Warrior Princess – unflappable and so capable – and at others like a fragile butterfly at the mercy of the breeze.

No two days are the same, and things can go from zero to hero, and reverse, very quickly.

I spent the next hour descending to, and crossing over, a beautiful flowing creek system, then scaling the rising side of the valley, with spectacular views of the water and forest below.

It was in this section that I again asked myself, “Do I continue or conclude my journey?” There is no doubt in my mind that in the company of my beautiful wife is where I am most happy.

Caught in the happiness of a potential return to this reality, I began planning the early end of my trip at Glen Wills. So much so, that when I stopped to talk to a farmer and passing travellers, I said I was finishing up in a night.

I mulled over this reality as I walked down gorgeous country roads, amid cattle and lush paddocks, to Taylor’s Crossing – my home for the night.

I arrived mid-afternoon, but loved the setting so much that I opted to stay.

I had lunch with another southbound hiker, and mentioned I was finishing my trip.

He went on to talk about the trifecta of US thru hikes that he’d completed (including the PCT and AT) and the completion rates for the respective hikes.

Later in the afternoon, two AAWT northbound runners and their crew rolled in.

I got chatting with the crew and mentioned I was on the cusp of pulling out. When queried as to why, I said I missed my wife and was struggling with the solo nature of my journey, but my body and gear were holding up well.

After these two conversations, my thinking changed. Being on track isn’t easy. In fact it’s often hard – both physically and emotionally exhausting, but it’s also wildly beautiful, and such a rare experience.

It’s not that I am in love with this reality, I am on a journey of the mind and body, and if I can stay strong, I’ll make it to the end, and my wife and happy space will be waiting for me. I can do this!

As I lay in bed tonight, I can hear raindrops pattering on my tent, the strong gush of the Mitta Mitta River below and the distant blare of a stereo from a camp across the river.

I’m on the ‘No camping side’ of the crossing, as my early bedtime routine is at odds with their party.