In 2018, Josh stepped onto South Australia’s iconic 1,200km Heysen Path with little concept of what lay forward. Six years and a pandemic-induced return to the workplace later, he wanted a reminder of the journey’s transformative energy.
We acknowledge and respect the Conventional Custodians whose ancestral lands are positioned alongside the Heysen Path: the Ngarrindjeri, the Kaurna, the Peramangk, the Ngadjuri, the Nukunu, the Banggarla and the Adnyamathanha. We pay our respects to those Conventional Custodians and recognise that their sovereignty was by no means ceded.
I plunged my fresh-out-the-box trekking pole into Parachilna Gorge’s parched earth. The filth grinding into its aluminium grooves felt oddly cathartic, every new scratch a reminder of its function – sustaining steadiness throughout damaged surfaces.
In distinction, I’d spent the final decade, 470km additional south in a sterile Adelaide workplace, retaining my grooves dirt-free, my function unscratched, and my steadiness untested. With 1,200km of wildly various Heysen Path in entrance of me, I had no alternative however to embrace uncooked unpredictability.
Learn extra: The Plentiful Landscapes of Australia’s Longest-Marked Climbing Path
Steering the pole by the shards of sedimentary rock, I arrived on the northern trailhead signage. I’d hoped to soak up some last-minute motivation. As an alternative, the signal warned: Don’t try and stroll this path until you might be properly outfitted and skilled.
Neither my gear nor my climbing acumen had been correctly examined, and in addition to a handful of half-studied maps, I had no concept what lay forward. Little did I do know that the next two months of forests, fields, and beachfronts would reshape my identification and reroute my life’s journey.
It’s straightforward to be swept away by the romance of a long-distance hike, particularly your first. Recollections of all-body aches, mangled gear, and rain-soaked days evaporate, changed by the path’s life-affirming classes.
YouTuber Elina Osborne maybe stated it finest in her brief movie, It Is The Folks. ‘Your first thru-hike is like your old flame. You dive into the unknown. Carefree, harmless to what lies forward. And life immediately is sensible.’
This was precisely my expertise solo climbing the Heysen Path.
My 2018 expedition was transformative – it strengthened my resilience, boosted my self-belief, kicked off my writing profession, and catapulted me right into a world of long-distance journey.
I turned a path ambassador, public speaker, journal editor, and revealed writer. The Heysen Path was greater than a thru-hike – it reshaped my identification, foreshadowing the individual I’m as we speak.
Six lengthy, COVID-stained years had handed for the reason that path first dismantled and reconstructed my sense of self. After pivoting again into the workplace over the pandemic, my climbing coronary heart desperately wanted a jumpstart.
It was time to revisit the Heysen, reversing my journey from the southern trailhead at Cape Jervis to sort out the redeveloped and rebranded Wild South Coast Manner (WSCW).
Admittedly, this return would mark my second try at a Heysen part hike. In 2023, an ill-fated 107km outback jaunt between Hawker and Quorn ended with an all-terrain ambulance experience from the flyblown reaches of The Dutchmans Stern Conservation Park.
The mix of a half-healed chilly and a string of 40°C days landed my freckled body in Quorn District Memorial Hospital. A last twist adopted with mistreatment for low potassium, leading to a 2am sprint to the regional centre Port Augusta for an encore of intravenous drips, blood assessments, and hospital-grade cheese sandwiches.
It was rather a lot. However, by the chaos (and the potential for grave medical problems), my thoughts targeted on the path’s classes, steeling my resolve to return.
Mercifully, my WSCW departure was a comparable doddle. I collected provides, reserved campsites, and booked bus tickets on LinkSA’s new Fleurieu Peninsula service all of the night time earlier than the hike. My full Heysen thru-hike took months of meticulous planning; my 2024 reprise was cobbled collectively in just a few brief hours.
The Finale Reborn
Very similar to my thru-hike, the trail past the southern trailhead promised recent beginnings. However Cape Jervis’ turbulent afternoon skies immediately transported me again to 2018’s last steps.
The squally circumstances that had ushered in my Heysen end line now escorted me out by the weather-beaten scrub. Recollections of the day adopted – the sense of feat, the exhaustion, the shredded left ankle… An hour into the path, my hippocampus was buzzing.
This introspection turned outward because the clouds fractured over Kangaroo Island to the west, dyeing the shoreline a decadent crimson.
The twilight spectacle mesmerised for 30 wonderful minutes earlier than the solar narrowed to the Eye of Sauron, leering at me from the horizon. A last headlamp-lit hour was spent escaping the gaze, climbing by Deep Creek Conservation Park‘s remnant forests to Cobbler Hill Campground.
Sudden Contrasts
I awoke to a plume of down fluttering in regards to the tent. A rip in my sleeping bag had unfold in a single day, turning my makeshift bed room right into a feathery snow globe.
Feeling the gluteus pangs that inevitably ping after swapping a sedentary workplace surroundings for a late-night hike, I gingerly shimmied over to my backpack in the hunt for sustenance.
I found that my rice crackers had been mulched into confetti, and my two remaining sizzling cross buns had been squished past recognition. Fortunately, I wasn’t there for the catering. The Easter treats powered me by the pack-up, leaving solely non-perishable snacking till Victor Harbor’s pub scene, an additional 4 days’ stroll east.
As day two unfolded, beforehand unseen landscapes stuffed my imaginative and prescient. In 2018, a pea soup fog had swallowed a lot of the peninsula’s craggy southwest. I remembered manoeuvring by the rain-drenched wattle, imagining what lay past the mist.
Six years on, this pristine slice of Ngarrindjeri Nation exceeded all expectations. Throughout the morning, pale, overcast skies illuminated the panorama, diffusing gentle throughout the tsunamic scrub-lined hills. The variations didn’t cease there.
All through my full-length expedition, on-trail interactions had been fleeting and sparse. Most campsites had been empty, bereft of shared recollections and morale-boosting banter. Now, the Heysen is a unique beast, with thru-hiker and section-hiker numbers spiking for the reason that pandemic.
Passing by Wuldi Krikin Ngawanthi/Eagle Waterhole Campground, four-year-old Holly, on her first in a single day tenting journey, was keen to talk. Porridge smeared throughout her cheek, she defined in nice element what to do if I ought to see a snake, earlier than declaring she was going to be Elsa when she grew up.
Within the night, at Yapari Ngawanthi/Cliffs Campground, I sat with a Swiss couple who had fled the European winter to relish in South Australia’s heat nights and crisp sea breezes.
The WSCW’s new hike-in campgrounds are one other good addition since 2018 – spacious kitchen shelters, long-drop bathrooms, working rainwater, USB ports, and purpose-built tent pads – a contact of distant bushland luxurious. Opened in 2022, they’re nonetheless clear, trendy, sudden, and precisely what my bones wanted after a sweaty day two.
Remembering Ghosts
Yapari Ngawanthi‘s dreamy, dappled-lit campground slowed my morning routine. Sheltered on a leeward slope, the ocean’s highly effective gusts had been confined to the treetop cover, isolating the rhythmic rustle of gum leaves with out wrinkling my rainfly. A dozy, meditative hour handed earlier than my sleeping bag overheated, and I needed to roll outdoors.
Rising onto the platform, I gestured a half-stretch half-wave towards my tenting comrades and commenced dragging out my gear. Facet-by-side, we performed to our stereotypes. The methodical Swiss: organised state-of-the-art package and a neatly folded light-weight bivvy. The 30-something-year-old Australian bachelor: sprawled, much-beaten dry baggage and a gaffer-taped groundsheet jammed into its stuff sack.
It was instantly evident a lot of my gear was ‘well-loved’. The truth is, my trusty MSR Hubba Hubba tent, 3L Camelbak water reservoir, and 360 Levels cooking set had ridden shotgun on my thru-hike. It felt like I’d reunited friends for a nostalgic journey.
Having spent hours studying and writing path articles, plus advising aspiring Heysen hikers, I’d developed an eerily correct recall of its route. So, on day three, I used to be puzzled to search out a number of unfamiliar kilometres.
I eyeballed the map, questioning the place I’d misplaced my bearings, however every little thing checked out. I’d seemingly blocked out this luscious stretch of coconut-scented gorse and yacca-studded slopes from my reminiscence.
My solely rationalization – a light case of PTSD.
Six years earlier and 8km additional east, my thru-hike was almost terminated in a receptionless grazing paddock. Hurdling over my millionth stile of the path, my ankle buckled on dismount, twisting beneath the load of my physique and backpack.
The ear-popping crack and searing ache had been sickening. I writhed helplessly among the many sheep poop, praying I wouldn’t have to activate my PLB.
Mercifully, the agony eased sufficient to bear weight, and I glacially resumed alongside the fence line.
This swollen, achy appendage had lingered for weeks past 2018’s end line, however its relayed amnesiac results had lasted till my Fleurieu return.
As day three progressed, I regained my bearings. Unsurprisingly so. A dozen mangled limbs couldn’t erase the reminiscence of Tunkalilla Seaside’s putting white sands or Balquhidder Hill’s lung-busting incline.
Following my tuna and rice cracker confetti lunch, the observe diverted inland, quickly arriving on the stile that had prompted all the issues. Taking a second, I forgivingly tapped its mounted path marker and moved on.
My Happiest Place
Day 4 at Kurri Ngawanthi/Creek Campground, previously Balquidder Campsite, unfolded in stark distinction to the bee-infested sauna that hazed day 57 of my thru-hike.
This time round, the creekside campground delivered a lustrous dawn, rising steadily from the valley’s gums. I peeled again the tent vestibule and watched night time fade from the consolation of my more and more down-less sleeping bag.
My morning amble alongside nation lanes and cow-pat-strewn pastures supplied a mild stretch for hamstrings that hadn’t acclimatised to the path’s multi-day calls for. The guiding fence line quickly billowed and plunged towards the coastal cliffs, my breaths deepening, permitting the ocean spray to penetrate my lungs.
I flashed again to the primary time this salt-tipped breeze met my nostrils in 2018. After nearly two months of blood, sweat, and dirt I may lastly odor the ocean.
A tidal wave of accomplishment and exhaustion had washed over me, leaving me teary-eyed and overwhelmed. I’d by no means skilled such an empowering emotion earlier than – or since.
I freed my backpack and simply sat, reminiscing, invigorated, and revelling within the misty spray.
A gormless grin crawled throughout my face as I crossed the blustery shores of Parsons and Waitpinga Seashores. I realised my thoughts had slowed to a step-by-step rhythm, launched from the urgency of emails, payments, and workplace politics.
I felt extra, skilled extra, and noticed extra by long-distance eyes; my ideas had been purer, my presence extra genuine. I had entered my happiest place – a state solely accessible over prolonged distances, distant from distractions.
I arrived at Natunyuru Ngawanthi/Sand Dunes Campground mid-afternoon with renewed mindfulness, recent concepts, and an beautiful shin-high sock tan.
The Finish of the Starting
After watching dawn from mattress the earlier morning, I used to be decided to rise with the solar on the ultimate stroll into Victor Harbor. Newland Head Conservation Park comprises the peninsula’s most photogenic headlands; I wished to see these corrugated beauties of their finest gentle.
As morning’s lustre penetrated the clifftop heath, my last epiphany concurrently dawned. Multi-day hikes generate reflection and introspection, however epic long-distance excursions activate long-lasting change.
5 days on the WSCW had untethered me from the on a regular basis, clearing my headspace for a considerate, aware, and appreciative hike alongside the Fleurieu’s beautiful seascape.
Whereas a whole bunch of Heysen Path kilometres had delivered a bodily, psychological, and emotional revolution, shedding years of gathered fears, limitations, and preconceptions.
Past the end line, I used to be a unique individual, actively searching for recent insights and alternatives for development.
It’s uncommon to have these sorts of revelations with out dedicating years to thought-modifying routines. Via-hikes have a approach of accelerating self-evaluation, with life classes lingering in your return.
Since transitioning again to a gradual, full-time workplace surroundings, these core learnings have pale, maybe obscured by the trivia of privilege or the passing of time. However I do know they’re there – I’ve lived them.
It’s time to revisit my Heysen Path classes. I want one other long-distance path.
