I woke up tired this morning. Maybe fatigued is a better word - although fatigue is a hard one to define. Aviation argues fatigue: chronic versus acute, tired versus fatigue itself, and when you use the word, people in offices shudder across continents. Anyway, I woke up this morning feeling stiff in my joints and dusty behind my eyes, and disinclined to get out of bed. Being on reserve with the phone resolutely silent, I had no reason to move, so stayed cuddling the Small until I felt motivated enough to get up for coffee.
I have a friend who wants to do a Sunset Beerwah tonight, and all possible excuses not to are bubbling through my mind. I can’t find my black leggings and maybe I can say the others are all in the wash (half of this is true). My shoes are wet from hiking yesterday (they are, but not the ones I wear on Beerwah). My hip hurts too much to walk (it is aching but I expect still functional). I don’t like climbing with you because you are slow and talk about annoying things that I have no interest in and also your voice itself is annoying (the absolute truth but cruel and therefore I will never say it). I suppose I will have to do Sunset Beerwah tonight - unless Crewing magically find me a flight.
Yesterday was Mount Cougal, a new one (two peaks) to cross off my list. There is a second way up so maybe there will be a second climb, but we shall see.
It was rainforest most of the way.
The instructions on Aussie Bushwalking were simple. Stick with the fence until there is no more fence.
The fence. A work of man being fought by nature, the rainforest taking back its own.
The fence, leading upwards to a cliff where it stopped, abruptly.
I don’t know who put the fence there, or what they were trying to keep in - or out. It was mostly metal posts, dark rusting barbed wire and sometimes chicken wire. The rainforest in places crushing it to the ground, barbed wire in piles under fallen trees. A fence you criss crossed on the four kilometre ridge towards Cougal. “Don’t hold on to the fence,” the instructions warned. In the misty rainforest wet, the metal poles were loose and it was easy to see why you could accidentally use them for support while slip sliding through the leafy mud and tree roots.
At the cliff, the instructions told us to go to the right and climb up it, which was easier said than done. The weather consistently dripped on us, the rocks were slippery with moss and mud, and the whole peak appeared as though a dump truck had unloaded potting compost over it. Often ankle deep in the rich dark brown mulch, we scrambled onwards. It was a slow ascent - and an even slower descent. The white out was complete, the dense inside of the cloud enveloping us in its wetness.
Our first view from the East Peak
We had passed two hikers on their way down - others equally mad as ourselves. They warned they had only attempted the East Peak due to the whiteout and their not wanting to get lost trying to get across to the West Peak. We scoffed in our minds and continued to explore.
There were several trails leading from the East Peak. We chose one - no wait, B chose one, and I said “are you sure this is the right way” and he said “yes, it definitely is,” and so we went, sticking religiously to the orange markers tied to trees, and going down, down, down... until we checked the map and saw we were heading off the ridge down towards Currumbin...
Scrambling up again through the deep brown mulch and rotting branches was hard work, but we made it back to the ridge for another track, this time marked with Pink Ribbons. Back at the East Peak, the clouds parted briefly to show us our goal.
The West Peak of Cougal
Then another wave of clingy white swept through, but at least we knew which direction to head. This time the track was even easier to follow, although equally unpleasant underfoot.
Giant spear lilies on the trail (and B)
There was no view from the West Peak, it being covered in long grass and rainforest trees. I didn’t even get my phone out for a picture as the dampness was all pervading. We put our sweaters on and sat for a bite of lunch, but decided quickly that it was too cold to stay any longer!
Back at the East Peak, it finally stopped raining for our five kilometre trek back to the car.
Quite an adventure trying to descend the muddy rock face in the misty wet
We paused above the fence to find a cave. It wasn’t easy to spot, being behind a rock face, but once found, it was quite fun. A narrow - but tall enough to walk through - opening, continuing maybe ten metres through the rock, and at the end a small light patch announced the very other side of the peak. It was too small to wriggle through so we had to exit the way we came.
Inside the cave
A very large gecko - maybe 15-20 centimetres - that sat perfectly still as we passed in both directions (head on the left)
Us in the cave
On that note, crewing literally just called me to go to Hamilton Island, and I am incredibly excited both to go to work and to go somewhere fun... oh and to not have to do Sunset Beerwah.
Sorry, I got sidetracked...
Coming back through the rainforest was immense. So many amazing trees, and the biggest strangler figs I’ve ever seen.
A dead tree across our path
A huge strangler fig so old the tree inside had completely disappeared
Looking upwards at the top of the two strangler figs
Looking back at Cougal’s peaks on the left and Boyd’s Butt (yes, I know) on the right
The sky had cleared significantly by then so we could actually see where we were going, coming out of the rainforest. The trail cut across high grassy fields, choked by lantana, then through patch of wild sugarcane. Someone must have hacked it down with a machete to make the trail.
The low and overhung trail through the sugarcane
There is just something about hiking through the rainforest. The smell is unique, especially after the rain. The ground is soft and bouncy, the green is so very green. The vines thicker than my arm that hang impossibly between trees. The downsides being the all pervading wetness and the ticks - I was lucky, but B got one on his neck (surgery was successfully performed back at the house). We will definitely return, probably attempting the Currumbin trail.
And now... now I must get back into Work Mode after a long weekend off, and find my way to Hamilton Island!
