I woke repeatedly through the night as snow had started to fall and gather on my tent, causing it to droop, so I would push it off by pressing the inside of the tent.

The winds were also very strong and moon bright, which made for a restless sleep. I woke up at 11pm thinking it was nearing dawn, but I still had an entire evening of snow management to get through.

When I turned my light on just after 5am, I could see 5cm-deep-snow under the vestibules of my tent.

My Chinese laundry of underwear and socks were frozen stiff, my rain jacket and pants still drenched, and shoes frosted over. I removed the sock from my throbbing sprained ankle and the swelling had worsened.

Needless to say, my situation was looking grim and I weighed up the benefits of taking a few rest days to let my ankle heal before returning to the track to get the job done. But, I appreciated the healing journey could be long and this may be my only chance to see it through.

I text Jane on my satellite phone and asked her to meet me at the Mt Erica car park, about 10 kiloemtres south, with dry underwear, leggings and a rain jacket, as well as charging cords for my fast depleting devices.

I stashed my wet clothes in a big sandwich bag, kept my dry bedtime gear on and wore sandwich bags over my socks in a bid to keep my feet dry in frozen shoes.

With snow continuing to fall, I emerged from my tent and got to work packing it up as quickly as I could with frozen fingers. It was a matter of shaking off as much ice as I could and stuffing my tent into the top of my pack as folding my tent was impossible with ice-cold fingers.

Through a snow covered thicket, I made my way to the Mt Erica car park, ankle in absolute pain as I went. Despite the discomfort, I appreciated the absolute beauty of what lay before me – majestic snow gums and dainty green bushes glistening in white.

I also passed the Talbott Hut Ruins, a lone chimney standing proudly in a sea of white. It was unlike anything I’d seen before.

Feet armed with sandwich bags, I made my way through sludgy pools of muddy water, carefully balancing over slippery rocks. The snow covered landscape continued until I reached Mushroom Rocks and began my descent from Mt Erica.

Huge speckled boulders covered in moss lined the track, along with giant ferns and little families of fungi.

I was beyond relieved to reach the car park and see Jane waiting there for me in our white Hilux. After a warm, but wet embrace, we got to work drying all my gear and clothes Infront of the car heaters and charging my devices.

Jane had also bought me a barista coffee from a nearby town and proceeded to cook me a bacon and egg muffin on the back tray of the ute. But perhaps most importantly, she brought more ankle strapping tape and instructions on how to apply.

After two hours had passed, I was setting off again in dry clothes, my ankle feeling much more supported and spirits high. We’d hatched a spur of the moment plan for Jane to visit me at O’Sheas Mill Site, a 7.5 kilometre journey away, for dinner to celebrate my last night on trail.

Initially, the track followed an unsealed road then dove deep into a rainforest on a fairly even and easy to follow track.

After crossing the rushing Tyres River – fed by a 3m waterfall – by hopping across stones, I arrived at camp at around 3pm, with Jane joining shortly after. My Trail Angel came bearing dry fire wood, a freshly cooked chicken pasta and a bottle of red wine.

We enjoyed a fire together, cuddling and reflecting on the past five weeks – a challenge in different ways for both of us.

Jane set off at around 7pm to make it back to our caravan parked up at Walhalla, and I retired to my tent for my last sleep on the AAWT – the rushing stream my soundtrack.