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The Great North Walk is a hiking trail that stretches over 250 kilometers from Sydney to Newcastle. I had only planned to do the part that goes through the forests between the two cities. I wasn’t in the mood for suburban skirmishes. I had gotten out of the habit of road walking in New Zealand.

Back from the Blue Mountains, I met Josie at the train station in Sydney. Together we drove to our friend Angus to deposit a few things at his place that I wouldn’t need during the next weeks.

Since the trail goes right through the city, the first section in the forest was easily accessible by public transport. I’m always amazed at how quickly you can be in the middle of the wilderness from Sydney, Australia’s largest city. Just done last errands in the mall and already you are standing in the jungle and have the feeling to be away from civilization for days.

Shelter from the rain

The rain came faster and with greater force than I had expected. I knew from the weather report that it was coming, but not with what ferocity. I settled down at a snack bar on the freeway on-ramp to have a coffee. The weather had only given me a sweaty shirt by then. Every step pushed more and more salty brine through my pores until the whole shirt was soaked.

I stood directly in front of the fan, which promised me some relief with its whirring. My book, The Labyrinth of Light, had just enough pages left to serve as a cozy accompaniment to my admittedly pretty bad coffee. Just ten pages before the actual end, an elderly gentleman of nearly ninety joins me. He regales me with some stories from his life without once asking about mine. Unasked monologues usually make me uncomfortable. The man didn’t often seem to have the opportunity to talk to anyone or brag about what he and his son had experienced in their lives.

I let him have his way until thunder struck. A signal to quickly pack up and look for a place to stay for the night. My plan was to escape back into the bush to set up camp in the wilderness. An official site would have been 10 kilometers to the north. On the way there was an old Aboriginal memorial site, which I hoped was an overhanging rock under which I could set up camp if it rained earlier.

Drenched in new sweat, I walked past the memorial. The sultriness put a veil over my glasses. By now a light rain had begun, barely noticeable through the jungle covered with lush ferns. As I emerged from the thicket, the sky cracked open and relieved me of my soaked shirt by rinsing me from bottom to top with fresh water. Pleasant, such a summer rain.

Not knowing how long and how often it would continue that day, I looked for a shelter where I could pitch my tent in the dry. I noticed a pavilion that would have served as a perfect roof for me. Mike, one of the tenants, gave me unofficial permission to spread out in the adjacent storage room and spend the night without rain. A few more rain showers made me very grateful for this gesture.

Bloodsuckers!

I don’t know if we have them in Germany, but if we do, they certainly aren’t as numerous as you encounter them here, or should I say swarming. The little worms suck on the skin and fill up their narrow, tubular bodies until they are as thick as a finger. Then they fall off. The blood thinner makes me ooze. Mike showed me that they can’t tolerate salt and will retreat after just a few grains and usually die. I must have had twenty on my feet that day, not dangerous, but annoying. As Mike told me, I got into an area here where the leeches swarm through the area like a plague.

To avoid the plague the next day, I decided to put on my long evening pants and tie them around the shaft of my boots with strings. As it turned out, this was a very effective strategy. My initial paranoia made me stop every few hundred yards to check the condition of my legs. None of the little worms made it under my pants, but got under my skin. As a precaution, I sprayed some insect repellent on my pant legs. After a while and the tenth stop, I notice that the bloodsuckers are having trouble climbing up my pant legs. Apparently they can’t bite into the fabric as well as they can into my skin. When walking, they just get shaken off after a while. When standing, the little leeches come at least up to my knees.

Escape plan

I had another bout of listlessness. I can’t seem to motivate myself to hike the way I could on the TA. The climate here is much more humid and muggy, which has me juicing all day like a sow being made into a suckling pig. My motivation seems to be tied to specific goals. Here, my only goal is to stay out of cities. Over a midday coffee at a gas station, I start looking around for a cheap place to stay and break off the hike. Unfortunately, nothing around here is even remotely affordable. So now with less motivation I continue the fight against the army of worms. Arrived at the day’s destination, I meet another hiker who has entrenched himself yesterday here on the campground with the small covered area. What strikes me is that the leeches tend to stay further down in the forest, where it’s much more tropical and humid, than up high where the eucalyptus grows.

Suffer

I really don’t know why I’m still doing the Great North Walk. I torture myself from kilometer to kilometer, with no real motivation. It’s still fun for a while, as long as everything goes smoothly and I have distractions in my ear.

Nature annoys me more and more. It’s not the dangerous animals that Australia is so well known for that make my life difficult here. It’s the sultry weather and the little pests that make my stay here in the forest so unpleasant. I don’t even manage the 20 kilometers I had planned to walk to the next “campsite”. I constantly check to see if another leech has attached itself to me. Two have actually made it up to my belly and soaked themselves full of my delicious blood. It remains denied to me to sit down simply times in peace on the ground, either one is crawled on or it begins to rain, while preparing my lunch.

The annoyance prevails. Like so many times before, I tried to find affordable accommodation with the prospect of just escaping to civilization. Eventually enough was enough, my wet feet chafed and ached. They forced me to pitch my tent at the next opportunity, a flat spot in the woods. In the process, another nuisance crept in on my body, which was irritated to the extreme. Giant ants that had nothing better to do than bite my battered feet. Shit, it hurts, physically and mentally. I am glad to finally be able to lock out nature through my tent. It was only a thin layer between her and me, but an effective one. I would have preferred snakes. At least you can avoid them.

The decision is made. The next morning I drag myself with the remaining strength over a dirt road until I find people. It must have been another 15 km of escape route. Finally done. People in sight. I am saved. I am brought to the train station. I am sure of a bed. The wood gnome comes to the big city like the Tarzen once did.