Larapinta Trail: Section 11 Hilltop lookout (Son of Sonder) to Redbank Gorge
Day 17 of 18 Tuesday
Wet, cold and not happy campers. Mother nature reminding us who is boss
Normally I start this blog off at the beginning of a new day, you know the saying a fresh start comes with every dawning and all that hog wash. Well today I want you to picture yourself lying in a tent, snug as a bug in a rug, deep in exhausted slumber after a hard days trail. You think the Son of Sonder has finished messing with your head and all is calm and peaceful. Now imagine your reaction when out of the blue thunder claps loudly over your head. It’s so close you can feel it reverberating through your flimsy tent walls. Now if you have imagined it correctly then you’ve probably just soiled your sleeping bag and had a coronary as your heart explodes out of your chest.
Well that my friends is exactly what happened in the wee hours of this fateful night, 0103hrs to be exact and at 0105hrs the first patter of raindrops tumbled from the sky, ever so gently like tears from above, not the godly type tears, but more the tears of laughter from the Son of Sonder, this mountain top in the shadow of Mt Sonder wasn’t finished messing with our heads for the day.
Mt Sonder, Missing in Action
And so the night went, the rain tumbled ever so gently from the sky and it tumbled and it tumbled, not a torrential down pour but just a slow steady light rain that was best described as soaking rain.
At one point about 0300hrs I thought I heard Big J moaning in the night, not sure what he was moaning about but it couldn’t have been from anything positive. The poor man was cowboy camping. We’d seen this rain possibly coming throughout the day and lightning flashes in the evening had all but assured us it was inevitable. Before turning in for the night Big J and I attempted to shore up his flimsy lean- to shelter preparing for some showers. But I guess neither of us had envisioned this soaking rain. He was offered my tent to share but you know the old saying ‘pride comes before a fall’. Well, I could almost picture him, a drowned rat shivering with cold, soaked to the bone, but too stubborn to yield for he knew that he would get slaughtered by the friendly banter. After another hour of this I was concerned for the man surely, he couldn’t be sleeping through this. Outside my tent was a small lake of water surrounding me, I was pretty happy that I’d invested in a quality tent and air mattress, but even that wasn’t enough to keep everything dry.
Poor Big J must be doing it tough. I called out to him to see if he was okay and come over and stay in my tent but only the wind replied. Maybe he’s sleeping it out I thought. You often hear of those weirdos who can sleep through anything, perhaps Big J was one of them. As for Irish, she had the plastic bag tent and quality mattress. So I knew she was fine too, There I lay waiting until the first light of day to assess the damage, sleep was a thing of the past now and it was more or less a battle to keep the wet out.
I think this picture paints a thousand words.
About 0500hrs the temperature really started to drop, the wind picked up for a final assault on our ebbing spirits, Son of Sonder continued to laugh at us. Crawling out of bed around 0630hrs and splashing through the puddles towards Big J’s camp site I could see him up already and struggling to break camp. He looked at me with a post apocalyptic survivor stare and mumbled “fuck you Son of Sonder, you tried to kill me”, we both laughed that crazy belly laugh like mad men and stood there shivering and getting soaked a little more. Big J was really in the hurt locker, he was shivering so hard and cold, believe it or not I was worried he was close to hypothermia. The wind was cutting through us and the clouds around us had descended to smother the land and cutting visibility to near on nothing. It truly was miserable weather.
Big J had called his son in the middle of the night, a broken man and arranged an evac off the trail. He wanted to just rush off the mountain. After finally convincing him that this was probably not the smartest of ideas to separate in such harsh conditions we set about breaking camp in record time.
Mt Sonder in hiding and refusing to come out and play
Departing Son of Sonder we paused for a quick photo of where Mt Sonder should be, it was nothing but cloud and so we finally conceded Son of Sonder had beaten us. Picking our way down the mountain in reduced visibility and biting wind was a challenge. But at least the rain had let up for the moment so that was a small blessing. I’d like to say the hike to Rocky bar gap was pleasant, but I’d be lying. We couldn’t see shit because of the weather, the wind was cutting through us like a knife through hot butter and the rain clouds were just spitting on us enough to annoy the shit out of you. It was probably the quietest 5km hike we had done, we were not happy little campers at all.
Arriving at Rocky bar gap we were cold and hungry. Normally the breaks were bliss and filled with banter but today we just sat in silence. Irish huddled around her stove soaking up warmth, Big J mumbling to himself something about Son of Sonder trying to kill him and me just staring out into space and cursing myself for not packing wet weather gear, not that I think it would have made a difference to the outcome. The weather had turned to shit, the evac was coming to get us and mother nature did what she has done since the beginning of time, that is punished the unpreparedOur last eleven-kilometre hike into Redbank Gorge passed in silence and muttered curses. The rain pelted down at times so persistent that the trail was like a water course and flowing little stream. I could feel Mt Sonder there looming above us in the clouds. But I couldn’t see her, she lay just out of reach this time. Hiking you have to take the good days and the bad days. It is what it is and that’s why nature can be so beautiful, but so harsh and unforgiving at the same time. As I’m sitting in the shelter at Redbank Gorge, we were surrounded by other hikers trying to wait out the weather, everyone is bummed out about the weather. Our evac is on the way, and the billy is on the boil, I’m miserably cold, I’m wet to the bone, and shivering. Pouring a brew I take a sip of hot tea; it feels good and warms the cockles of my soul. The weather has beaten us this time, but I know we’ll be back to conquer Mt Sonder. I reflect on this adventure and emotions are flooding my tired brain. I’m a little saddened at not finishing the trail all in one go, but I’m immensely proud of what our little group of wayward adventurers has achieved. Personally, never had I thought I could walk 215.8 km continuously through the wilds of the NT. It has taught me so much about my own limits and made me realise that if you put your mind to something, well limits are just that, limitations that you impose upon yourself or limits that we let others impose on us. Either way you look at it you truly can negate said limits if you refuse to set them in the first place, then you are starting to live your own dream.
215.8km down but not out, we will return
