At one point during the afternoon, as I wandered along on my own, I marveled at the scope of what I was doing. It was just so awesome to be out there in the cold, crisp, clean, fresh air in an environment so far removed from my regular routine. I couldn't believe that something so physically challenging could be so much fun. It was true; I realised I was actually having fun as I watched the snow kick out in front of my boots. The thought made me smile out loud.
Peak 4
Peak 5
Peak 6
From Peak 6 it took an hour to get to ‘the
road’; we had to scramble a bit as the goal was to make it in an hour, before
the sun disappeared altogether. The downward slope and the soft snow made
walking quite difficult. I felt like my legs were a little uncontrollable; they
seemed to almost have a mind of their own and flung themselves forward rather
than being controlled by me, which made for a very uneven and stumbling gait. I
called it The Drunken Snow Dance; it was quite exhausting. We crossed the Snowy
River again; this time we couldn’t see it, could only hear it gurgling and
bubbling under the snow. I fell into a hole up to my groin; luckily, only one
leg went in and I managed to pull myself out and continue on. There was one
particularly (in my mind) hairy section where we traversed along the side of a
very steep hill; solid footing was important lest you slip and tumble off into
the distance. The last 20 minutes to get to the road was pretty tough; out of
the snow but into ankle deep vegetation that was soft and spongy and really
hard to get any traction or momentum going.
From Peak 6 to 'the road'; the sun was going down.
This is the lead of the group, out in front.
This is the rear patrol; I'm walking on my own in the middle of the two groups, making my way, chatting to myself, counting, counting, always counting.
Such a beautiful environment; I loved it.
Once we reached the road we still
had 6km to go to get back to the cars. The first few kilometres of this section
was my lowest point for the day. I had thought that reaching the road meant that there would be a pretty clear track all the way home; that wasn't the case at all. The snow on the ground was relentless; all I
could do was plod, plod, plod along. We came to Seaman’s Hut but I wasn’t
interested. The 1km markers seemed miles and miles apart; the snow poles went
on forever; there was no road to speak of, only snow and occasional tufts of spongy grass to give some relief from the snow. Dusk
fell, and then night fell. We put on our head torches and trudged on, searching for the marker that would tell us 1km to go.
Just follow the poles.
Dusk falling.
Our last selfie for the day.
Night vision and at least for a little while, no snow!
We
finally came to a break in the snow and were able to walk on gravel. Meg and I were together and lost
sight of the group in front and the group behind; it was just Meg and me,
tramping on. We reached a point where we weren’t sure which way to go so waited
for the following group and continued on together; at one point I thought we were lost
but, not long after, we popped out into the carpark where we'd set off from that morning and there was the
bus, door open, engine running, with the rest of the very tired crew inside to
greet us. It was 9pm. Fourteen hours after setting out we were finally
finished. We fell in, slammed the door shut and set off on the 40 minute drive
back to base where we picked up pizzas, peeled off soaking boots and sox,
showered and fell into bed. Shattered but elated.
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