A walk in the forest

Since my first involvement with off-road vehicles, I have always been aware of an intangible barrier between bush walkers and 4WD enthusiasts.

It is a situation that shouldn't exist, for the aims of each group are common: to escape the rat race of the cities and suburbia and enjoy nature in its pristine state. Whether we reach our special faraway places inside walking boots or inside a well-equipped vehicle should not be an important factor, provided we do it with care and a commitment to preserve the environment.

So, when some scouts asked me to join them on a hike to Blue Gum Forest, I thought it would be a great way to spend a weekend and compare the virtues of 'on foot' versus 'on wheels' travel. Blue Gum is in the mountains to the west of Sydney and is regarded as one of the finest cathedrals of trees in Australia. It is unreachable in a vehicle, which (embarrassingly) meant I had never been there..

Soon after starting off from the top of the entrance trail, I got to thinking about the last time I went on an overnight hike. I remembered it was about the time....no, I won't tell you when that was. Suffice to say that it was before any of the scouts, and even some of their leaders, had even been born!

With packs on our backs we wound our way own through Neates Glen and the Grand Canyon. The scenery in places was spectacular and the colors of the cliff walls often looked remarkably like the real thing in Arizona. For a long while the gorge to our left was so deep that I'm sure sunlight never reached the stream at the bottom.

Walking downhill sounds easy. In reality, when you have a heavy backpack, and you are not used to this sort of thing, it doesn't take very long to realize that you are far from being physically fit The first thing to fail is the knees. With the constant stress, your kneecaps start to tremble and twitch. Sort of like brake-fade in human form.

Lunch was a welcome break at The Junction, where two creeks meet and cascade over boulders. It was surprising to see how many walkers were out on the trails - some with huge packs; others carrying almost nothing at all. From The Junction to Acacia Flat (the camping area adjacent to Blue Gum Forest) it was fairly easy going, although I was beginning to get tired. Too many years behind a desk, and behind the wheel, had destroyed my body's desire to go for jaunts like this. So when the Acacia Flat clearing became visible through the trees I was only too happy to flop down for a while and watch the sun slowly disappear behind a hill.

The campsite on Saturday evening could have been any of the dozens of 4WD camps I've participated in. Once the tents had been erected, everyone got their meals down and then sat around the campfire swapping yarns. The talk was of people, jobs, good trips and equipment - the discussion of tires replaced by boots, and roof racks replaced by backpacks. Everything was different. Everything was familiar.

That night I didn't sleep particularly well. The easy part was over. Tomorrow, some of the scouts told me, was the 'horror stretch'. Up all the way. Holy mackerel! If I'm stuffed now, how would I cope tomorrow?

The truth wasn't long in coming. Once we returned to The Junction it was a relentless grind up to the base of the waterfall below Govett's Leap. For the fit walker that meant an energetic lope for an hour or so. For the unfit (like me!) it meant relentless, personal torture.

The sweat was pouring out of my body. My bush hat was saturated, the shirt between my skin and backpack was like a lake and my leg 'muscles' were on fire. I had been up climbs like this many times before - but only in first gear, low range! There was no way I was going to make the waterfall lunch site by midday. And the further I managed to walk, the slower I got. Damn! Damn! Damn! My mind wanted to push on. You see it done in movies: will - power overcoming immense physical odds. But my legs would not let me go faster than a crawling pace. Then a quiet panic set in; the border of my vision was blurring - just as if I had put on glasses with opaque edges. Cripes, I mightn't make it at all.

I reached the base of the waterfall almost an hour after the scouts. They were all fed, rested and ready to tackle the next section - the long haul up the cliff to the lookout at the top. Someone mentioned it was only 6,000 steps. Only six thousand!!

There was no way I could go on without at least an hour's break; so I told the others to leave me there and I would make it up to the top in my own time. Even if it took me until sunset, I knew I would get there eventually.

Lunch, consisting of cooked pieces of chicken, wouldn't go down. The first mouthful tasted like a ball of blotting paper. There was no saliva in my mouth to help it along so I had to spit it out and do some serious work on the neck of my water bottle.

I half sat, half lay, taking turns at looking at the majestic waterfall and the cliff I had to conquer that afternoon. There was no other option. No road came down here. It was either walk out or be carried out (by helicopter) and no one was going to bring a chopper in here just because some old four-wheel driver was buggered at the bottom of the waterfall. Six thousand, did they say?

At 2.00pm I managed to stand up, swing my pack on and stumble toward the cliff. I knew how to get up; count every bloody step! If there were not six thousand, at least I'd have the satisfaction of telling them they were wrong. I got to number 154 when the leg cramps started. I couldn't believe it. Things were starting to get serious. Incredibly, just as I thought I'd run out of options, Graham Andrews appeared. He'd been almost to the top when the decision was made to go back down and help 'poor old Ray'.

Without a pack the going was easier and, after several rest stops, I eventually made it. However, getting to civilization required a further two-mile, uphill slog along a road. It was impossible. I knew that even walking up the road would be agony. So, I decided to do something I had never done before -ask a stranger for a lift. A couple in fairly new Nissan Pathfinder had pulled up not far from where I stood. I limped over. Would they mind giving a stuffed bushwalker a ride to the town? I knew it was a big decision for them to make, as I must have looked like a dirty, old tramp. They must of felt sorry for me, for after a few seconds, the guy behind the wheel agreed. Four-wheelers are good people.

About a week later, after the aches and pains had faded, I thought more about the good moments of the hike; the fabulous valleys and gorges we passed through, the clear running streams and, of course, the magnificent Blue Gum Forest with its ramrod-straight, blue and cream trees that join forces to present a vista that is hard to describe. In some lights, the forest is more like a special-effects movie set. An extravaganza designed entirely by Mother Nature.

My thanks go to Graham Andrews and the scouts. Without their efforts I could still be making my way up that darn cliff. But at least I would have remembered to keep counting. I bet there were only 5,999.