The Long March - April, 2010.
This not so much amazing, but a comedy of errors.
I suppose it all started the day before.
Had left town to travel 3 hours or so, to the Outstation, where I was planning to do some grading of station roads and fence lines for a week or 10 days. I’d be
camping by myself, as the
river crossing was impassible, and none of the staff could get across either. While there may have been some OHS issues in this situation, I knew the station
well, had plenty of tucker,
water and a Sat phone, as
well as good UHF communication to the
homestead. It wasn’t like I’d be climbing any windmills, or attempting to catch any Inland Taipans either.
After dinner, I drove down the road towards the station, to see how it was after the recent rain. All in reasonable order until just after I passed an old cattle yard, where there was a long silt bank, across the road. A quick evaluation had me grab another gear, and apply a huge amount of right foot. This astute action saw the Landcruiser get right into the middle of the silt, before the forces of nature were greater than 380nm of Toyota torque, and Wrangler M/T’s.
With the silt having a consistency like playdough, it was unlikely I’d be able to dig the vehicle out before dark, I decided to walk back to the outstation, about 15 kms. Had on a
well worn pair of joggers and I’d been walking every arvo, in town, so reckoned I’d knock this over in 3 hours, and it wasn’t too far past that, when I walked into the cottage.
Next morning, was up at 5 am, had brekkie, cut a dinner and drove Garry the Grader, down to my disabled Toyota. A chain and a snatch strap were needed before Garry was able to snig the vehicle out, at not much more than an idle. Parked the ute out on a claypan,
well away from the silt, and where there was no risk of fire. Then Garry and I proceeded to touch up the road towards the next yards, and the
homestead.
About 10am, I decided to open a road up across a major
creek that is used to walk cattle across, rather than as a vehicular track. The going was a bit “heavy”, but not wet, so it shouldn’t be too bad. Famous last words. At one of the gullies, with a full blade of dirt, Garry was doing his best, but the combined load and heavy soil, caused the machine to hang up on the rear drive. Even using the hydraulics to lift the machine didn’t help at all. Bogged again!!!
No shovel either(why have a shovel on a grader?) made any chance of digging Garry out, extremely arduous. A decision was made, not so spontaneous this time, I might add, so after eating a sanger, and a plentiful amount of
water, I took a camera, UHF hand held and 600 mL or
water, and started walking back to the Toyota.
Today’s walk would test the stamina I thought, but headed off in a positive frame of mind. Not a race, it’s a marathon,
well in this case, about a half-marathon. Made good time in the first hour, then decided to take a small short cut, to save some distance. Bad move, the gidgea burr was dry, and the thorns were a constant irritation, to my ankles and feet. About every 30 metres, I’d have to stop, and try to get most of the thorns out of my socks. No more short cuts,
well not cross-country anyway.
After midday, it had warmed up a fair bit, and was probably in the mid-30’s. An occasional sip of
water was a great help. I’d talked to the station, but they couldn’t do much. I’d be back at the Toyota before they could get to me.
About 3 hours into my Long March, (sorry Mao) the burning in the soles of my feet wasn’t as I’d thought the heat off the ground but blisters. A large blister on the ball of one foot was not only uncomfortable, but being rapidly joined by another on the opposite foot. At this point, I was buoyed by the thought that I only had 5 kms to go, but it was actually more like 7 kms.
Maybe 3 kms later, the road crosses an open
creek, where there’s a stand of Coober Wattle. Being in the middle of the afternoon, and not having much
water left, I picked the shadiest spot, and leant up against one of the wattle trees. Took off my footwear, and inspected the rather large blisters, which hadn’t broken. It was so good to be off my feet for a while. Sipped the last of the
water and after 20 minutes rest, donned the footwear again, and headed off on the last few clicks.
The slightly cooler temperature, and a light breeze, added to the boost I felt from stopping for a rest, and I made good time, albeit with an unusual gait, no doubt caused by the 2 large blisters that accompanied me.
Five hours after I’d left Garry, bogged in that gully, I reached the Toyota, a bit puffy and very happy to be able to start the ute, and get the aircon going. In 2 days, I’d walked 38 km, got bogged twice and had 2 very painful blisters. As it turned out, it rained that night, and I left for town the next morning. But not before I ceremoniously burnt that pair of joggers!