At the beginning of the year, I asked each of my sons for some ideas about some activity that they really wanted to undertake. Mathew wanted to try fencing (with swords, not posts and rails), Nathan wanted to take up archery, and Josh wanted to go on an overnight hike with me. Well, the first two were achieved pretty quickly, but it took until the weekend just gone to go with Josh for an overnight.

You can look at the guide for the walk that we took here.

Now let me say up front that it was a precious weekend that we will both remember, for various reasons. It was very affirming for Josh, and he has realised some pretty good things about his own strength now. I also have discovered a few things, and they have to do with my age and a few other illusions that I held about myself. I’d like to believe that the following can be called wisdom … or maybe it’s something related, but not quite as good. Anyway, here are a few thoughts that occurred to me on the walk.

Let me describe myself first. I’ve just turned 42. I’m 184 cms tall, and before this walk, I weighed 107 kgs. Although this means that I’m obese according to the BMI, I don’t look it. I’m admittedly overweight, but I have high muscle density. Without any preparation at my sons’ school one night, I deadlifted 240 kg and did a standing broad jump of around 2 metres. Dumb, but there you go. I can run a couple of kilometres without stopping, so I considered myself in pretty reasonable shape.

Are my peers listening? If you are thinking of doing such a walk, please consider the following first.

Illusion Reality
They write “Hard” in the rating to stop people in wheelchairs attempting the walk. Apparently, “Insanely difficult unless you are (a) 12 years old; or (b) prepared” is too long to fit in the space they have available for the rating field.
The times they write for each section of the walk are maximum times. The times they write on the guide are determined by extreme hikers who carry nothing more than clothing and discover caches of “Mother” on the track. Or by 12 year olds carrying full packs.
My Asics are great walking shoes. My Asics are great running shoes. They breathe. Unfortunately, this means that they inhale dust, which becomes grit and causes blisters.
My favourite socks are the most comfortable socks. My favourite socks have been through the washing machine many times, and the “cushioned soles” have become quite hard and cause blisters.
My feet are fine. Cut your toenails before you go, or they will cut you.
My feet are fine. My feed are soft. “Tenderfoot” is a real description of my current pampered state.
I have a lot of muscle … and that’s good. More muscle means more that can cramp when I’m trying to reach my feet to get my socks off. Never before have I had my whole upper front and inner leg (groin to knee) cramp at once. Both legs. While in sleeping bag, so I can’t stretch.
I can handle anything my 12 year old son can handle. I can still beat my 12 year old son in most mind games, rumbles and arm wrestles. In any activity involving any sort of endurance, he will leave me in the dust.
“Steep” is a word that means I might break a sweat on this part of the trail. “Steep” is almost a synonym for “precipitous,” and I think “precipitous” is the more accurate word.
There would be a couple of nice stops on the way to catch my breath. On the “steep” part, I actually had to stop every 30-odd steps to catch my breath and wait for my quads to stop cramping. Actually, I wasn’t able to catch my breath. I had to wait for it to come back. Catching anything other than a cold was completely beyond me.
I’d done the math and figured with only 8 or 9 hours of actual walking, I wouldn’t need much extra water, so took 2.5 litres. We actually did the entire thing in 24 hours (including feigning sleep on the top of a mountain), but 4 litres would have been more appropriate. Fortunately, I found a functioning bubbler at the oval in Patonga, and over the next hour drank another 1.5 lt.
I don’t need a hiking staff. Josh made one before we left, and I used it more than he did. There came many points (usually part way through a “steep” part of the track) where I discovered that my legs would no longer lift my vast (and increasing) bulk up to the next step. The stick was a great way of allowing my arms to take over part of the burden.
I’m not old. I have hip joints, and they dislike abuse. Oh dear. Come the end of it, I think my grandfather would have outpaced me. And he’s dead. And before he died, he had blood clots, emphysema and an artificial leg.

Seriously, to see my hobbling gait today (the day after we came home), you would be overwhelmed by the twin urges to pity and laugh. At least, my family is.

If you are like me (sedentary, carrying a bit much weight, but otherwise fairly healthy) and you are considering undertaking such a walk, let me submit to you a couple suggestions.

  • Multiply the times from the guide by about 1.5.
  • Get some new socks.
  • Get good walking boots and wear them every day for a couple of weeks.
  • If you go for a daily stroll, take your pack with the same amount of weight that you’ll be taking on your walk.
  • If you don’t go for a daily stroll, start. And take a pack.
  • Take more water than you think you are going to need.
  • For an overnight walk, you don’t really need any more clothing than you wear at the start. Unless you happen to go swimming, or it starts raining.
  • Take sunscreen. I did, and what’s more, I used it! Woo hoo!
  • Chafing. You will chafe. Some of this chafing won’t become apparent until you’re showering or using the toilet when you get home. I have no idea what you can do about this, apart from losing the excess weight before you go. And have talcum powder ready.
  • Get a hiking stick or staff.

It was a great experience, and not one I’m likely to forget. Josh had a great time, having his Dad to himself for a whole weekend. There is boundless beauty along the track, and it’s worth doing walks like this regularly. But for heaven’s sake, don’t think you can just do it without preparation and come out unscathed.