After a ripper sunrise on Mt High Cone, I rediscovered the trail – an easy task with a fresh mind and sunlight. Before too long I’d commenced a gruelling climb up Mt McDonald (1,620m), with rocky sections obscuring the track.

I found myself way off trail several times and had to bush bash my way back. Once I reached the windy summit, I stopped for a break and to call my wife.

There were patches of frosted grass lining the ‘path’, and from the western peak of Mt McDonald I could hear the distant roar of car engines.

The section south of the west peak was lined with rock cairns, which were not just helpful in guiding my way, but made me feel less alone in this wild environment. People had walked where I was walking, and they’d assembled these rock structures to help me, all of us. Sticks had also been laid to guide the way. It was a nice feeling.

As I descended, the landscape became less rocky and more heavily wooded, with damp leaves slippery underfoot. It was evident that much of this section had been cleared recently, which made for pleasant walking.

Despite this, I managed to trip on a stump and roll my ankle badly 1.6 kilometres north of Low Saddle. The pain was searing and my ears began ringing.

I sat for a few minutes before getting back on my feet, and hobbling gingerly, with pain jutting from my ankle as it came into contact with the rolling terrain. I walked on my toes and used my hiking pole to offset pressure, but the pain was too great and I could feel my foot swelling.

I removed my shoes, and my ankle looked like a tennis ball. I strapped it with tape and had a few pain killers and continued hobbling up to Mt Sunday (1,408m), the pain lessening slightly as I went on.

The swelling had gone down by 70 per cent or so by the time I got to camp, which was a beautiful, open grassy area surrounded by trees. I enjoyed a fire then a fried rice mish-mash dinner in my tent, where I took shelter from the wind.