The helicopter flew overhead, high and fast. The possibility that it was looking for me never occurred to me.
I was 6 days into my 74 day solo trip across the Australian Alps and was traversing the catchment area of the Thompson River in the Victorian Alps. This section of the Australian Alps Walking Track (AAWT) was characterised by unexciting forestry roads, 4WD tracks and plenty of elevation change.
It didn’t take me long to realise that I underestimated the difficulty that the hills would present to me due to the bulk of my pack. The climbs were proving grueling and I was covering less ground than I anticipated. I knew the walking would get easier as my body adapted to the weight of my pack, but I wondered how long that process would take. After six days on the track, I was only getting wearier, not stronger.
When I reached the first road after I crossed the Baw Baw plateau, I decided to leave a few items stashed by the side of this road, in a dry bag. I would return to collect these items about three months later. The parcel contained my tripod, and a whole bunch of spare kit that I realised I was much better not lugging around. But even after having eaten six days of food, and getting rid of about 3kgs of gear, my pack still weighed well over 30kg! It took me a long time to learn how to go lightweight, and that is not something that I mastered on this trip. I hope that all of you my dear readers are a bit smarter than me and learn how to leave the non essentials home without having to carry an oversized pack across Australia’s tallest mountain range. It did take me stronger, but it took my body about three weeks to really wake up to the challenge. Those first three weeks were difficult, but I persevered. The pack didn’t break me in the end, it simply made me stronger.
I was anticipating reaching the location of my first food drop. Inside a sealed tub, waiting for me at Rumpff Saddle were all the supplies required for the next leg of my walk. I could only hope that the tubs I placed four months previously would still be exactly where I’ve left them. I made sure to hide and seal the tubs, but there were certainly doubts playing in the back of my mind. The idea of having to abandon my walk due to a compromised food drop weighed almost as heavily on my shoulders as my oversized pack.
The hills in this section of the AAWT were remote; it’s been four days since I’ve seen another person. My phone has been out of range for three days and I was relying on my satellite Spot messenger to keep in touch with my emergency contacts, including my mum. I’ve been sending an OK message through my satellite device every evening upon reaching my campsite.
We had a meticulous plan in case something should happen to me. If my contacts haven’t heard from me via my satellite messenger in two consecutive days, they were to assume something was wrong and alert emergency services. I figured my device was reliable and would send the messages through as anticipated. I was wrong.
The man on the motorbike rolling down the hill had a rifle slung across his shoulder. He was riding an old Honda with a well worn sheepskin draped over the seat. As he came to a halt next to me I wondered which one was older, the man or the motorbike. He squinted at me through his glasses and said:
‘You’re not the fellow they’re looking for, are ya?’
Suddenly, there was a cold pit where my stomach was only a moment before.
“Who are they looking for?” I asked intently.
“Young fellow, walking the alpine trail. They haven’t heard from him in two days. The police were asking about him yesterday in town, that’s how I know.”
I haven’t seen any other hikers in days. I knew it had to be me.
It took me another two hours to reach the summit of Mt Victor and receive service on my phone. In a frantic sequence, my phone buzzed and beeped for a solid minute as all the missed calls and messages showed up from the last couple of days. That’s when it clicked. The helicopter that flew overhead the previous day was looking for me.
In the end, it was a matter of making a couple of phone calls. By this time, the search has been called off as my message on the previous night had gone through, letting everyone know that I was all right. This still left my family and friends wondering for 24 hours whether I was in danger and emergency services looking for me, including a helicopter, the police and volunteers.
I felt guilty, for I should have accounted for the failure of technology in the emergency plan I drew up at the start of the trip. In hindsight, it’s always easy to see what the best course of action would have been. After this incident, we changed our plan from two days to seven days of no contact before alerting emergency services. While this was far from an ideal scenario, I couldn’t risk triggering a false alarm twice. I was lucky not to be billed in the end.
I reached my food drop three days later at Rumpff Saddle. It was dark by the time I went hunting for my food tub in the woods. For the better part of half an hour I believed my supplies have disappeared; that someone has found it and knocked it off. Then, to my elation, I found it, intact and undisturbed. My first checkpoint has been reached.
As I cracked my pre-chilled beers open, I felt a sense of accomplishment for I have completed the first leg of my journey. As I sat there on the grass in the dark, tasting the crisp taste of beer, I knew anything was possible. Now, with ten days behind me, I only had 64 days left to go...
