The Great North Walk 2006: Day 10 - Watagan Creek Rd

A hot mug of tea and breakfast in the car at 6 am is a great start to the day, with the occupants of several vehicles all staying put to delay confronting the cold - plenty of time for that later. Pete’s 4WD temperature gauge informs us that it’s 1 degree as we leave the Morisett rendezvous at precisely 6.31 am. The 4WD convey proceeds to another rendezvous, where overnight campers amongst the group have prepared a fire for all to huddle around whilst half the 4WDs go off into the bush to make the end of the day easy for all. Then another 4WD shuffle to the start of the walk (what a scenic drive that is). Almost four hours after I had left home, the walk begins.

Then down into a paddock, the frosty valley crunching under foot. The grass is encrusted with a white shroud, as are the numerous cow pats which we either weave between or flatten. Now a short meander to cross Watagan Creek - a dry crossing, unlike last year apparently. The first of many stiles to be encountered today, then the next spectacle after the frosty paddock is of a sea of bare gum trunks. The foliage is way up where we are headed, the trunks the only thing in my range of vision for now, lest the ascent overwhelm too early. I warm up very quickly, unzipping the outer layer, but gloves stay on, toes and nose icy. Two strategically-timed jelly snakes provide the required boost, and soon enough the vertical haul is over, then it’s just a short walk to the morning tea stop at Flat Rock Lookout, which is a particularly scenic spot, inducing an audible “wow”.

As we sit and take in the expansive views over the Lower Hunter Valley (with Congewai Valley in the foreground), Pete points out our meandering route for the rest of day, off in the distance, across the pastures, up gullies and over ridges. Five or six kms of undulating terrain follow morning tea, punctuated for me by regularly adjusting baby India’s beanie backwards from her eyes, as she bobs along in Dad’s backpack. Much of her view today has a pink hue. Dad (Don) informs me she’s reached the 9 kg mark, and with the other gear he carries, it makes my 7kg pack seem like nothing, and I must say I’m used to the pack now, and don’t feel thrown back by the weight of it as I haul myself up semi-vertical terrain.

Then down, down, down into the valley that we’d been surveying from on high at morning tea. The descent is much easier than last week’s marble alley, and very pretty - fantastic for walking solo and taking in the views and listening to bird song. An early lunch and aromas abound, with Pete and Sarah making curried-egg sambos, and Lesley and Ian boiling water for piping-hot green curry chicken soup. We grab this lunch spot whilst the going is good, and settle with cows grazing a comfortable distance away, but they move off quickly (in the same direction on the track we are on) when 30 of us get to our feet after lunch. That makes for fresh and pungent splats to skirt around.

Then the road section of a few kms, which is hard on the hips and feet, and we pass the sign-posted residence of B & M Fogg where the Pokolbin Vineyards Walk forks off from the Congewai Valley Trackhead. We’ll be back to that point to start week 14. Reading the sign which states that Sydney is 180kms behind us, and Newcastle just 70kms to the north, cements the sense of achievement I am feeling as this walk is incrementally conquered. It seems few people like the flat road walking, but it lets us walk past a “quintessentially Australian tree”; a gum with an artist’s palette for bark, and it really is a very Australian-bush experience we’re having, with farm houses and tin structures by the roadside on this section.

Next, the 519m ascent to Barraba Trig looms. I see the sign, but not the Trig, perhaps too busy nursing an injury and trying to get up the track, however not too busy to take in the rainforest pocket and large grass trees (thanks Doug for the scenic commentary, and thanks Kerry for lending me an extra walking pole so I could test the theory that two poles are better than one – certainly for me one is better than none).

Then past an old timber getters’ hut – a museum piece with bunk remnants harking to the mid 1900s. A call from the back “are we there yet?” and the repeated “it’s just around the corner” adds humour, as by now the tail end of the group is pretty well exhausted. Down to the cars, and Heather has started another welcome fire, as the group gathers with cold beers (thanks guys), or, for (English) Linda, a hot coffee brewed on Helge’s primus. We don’t seem to lack much in the way of comforts, and even India ends the day with some spontaneous rolling on a ground sheet, to get her very-soon-to-be-walking legs functioning again after a day in the pack. We leave with the orange glow of the setting sun off in the distance for the adventurous 4WD trip back to base. What a great day, thanks Pete and Doug and all.

Anne