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 dust grinding into its aluminium grooves felt oddly cathartic, every new scratch a reminder of its goal – sustaining stability throughout damaged surfaces.
In distinction, I’d spent the final decade, 470km additional south in a sterile Adelaide workplace, protecting my grooves dirt-free, my goal unscratched, and my stability untested. With 1,200km of wildly various Heysen Path in entrance of me, I had no selection however to embrace uncooked unpredictability.
Learn extra: The Considerable Landscapes of Australia’s Longest-Marked Mountaineering Path
Steering the pole by means of 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 except you’re properly outfitted and skilled.
Neither my gear nor my climbing acumen had been correctly examined, and apart from 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. Reminiscences of all-body aches, mangled gear, and rain-soaked days evaporate, changed by the path’s life-affirming classes.
YouTuber Elina Osborne maybe mentioned it finest in her quick 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 instantly 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 grew to become a path ambassador, public speaker, journal editor, and printed writer. The Heysen Path was greater than a thru-hike – it reshaped my identification, foreshadowing the particular person I’m at this time.
Six lengthy, COVID-stained years had handed because the 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 mixture of a half-healed chilly and a string of 40°C days landed my freckled body in Quorn District Memorial Hospital. A ultimate 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 exams, and hospital-grade cheese sandwiches.
It was rather a lot. However, by means of the chaos (and the potential for grave medical problems), my thoughts centered 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 evening earlier than the hike. My full Heysen thru-hike took months of meticulous planning; my 2024 reprise was cobbled collectively in a number of quick hours.
The Finale Reborn
Very similar to my thru-hike, the trail past the southern trailhead promised contemporary beginnings. However Cape Jervis’ turbulent afternoon skies immediately transported me again to 2018’s ultimate steps.
The squally situations that had ushered in my Heysen end line now escorted me out by means of the weather-beaten scrub. Reminiscences 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 pink.
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 ultimate headlamp-lit hour was spent escaping the gaze, climbing by means of Deep Creek Conservation Park‘s remnant forests to Cobbler Hill Campground.
Surprising Contrasts
I awoke to a plume of down fluttering concerning 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 atmosphere for a late-night hike, I gingerly shimmied over to my backpack looking for sustenance.
I found that my rice crackers had been mulched into confetti, and my two remaining scorching cross buns had been squished past recognition. Fortunately, I wasn’t there for the catering. The Easter treats powered me by means of the pack-up, leaving solely non-perishable snacking till Victor Harbor’s pub scene, an extra 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 means of 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 reminiscences and morale-boosting banter. Now, the Heysen is a distinct beast, with thru-hiker and section-hiker numbers spiking because the pandemic.
Passing by means of 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 bogs, operating rainwater, USB ports, and purpose-built tent pads – a contact of distant bushland luxurious. Opened in 2022, they’re nonetheless clear, fashionable, 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 exterior.
Rising onto the platform, I gestured a half-stretch half-wave towards my tenting comrades and commenced dragging out my gear. Aspect-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’. In reality, 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 buddies 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 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 gentle case of PTSD.
Six years earlier and 8km additional east, my thru-hike was practically terminated in a receptionless grazing paddock. Hurdling over my millionth stile of the path, my ankle buckled on dismount, twisting underneath the burden 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 must 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 fixed 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 evening 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 delicate 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 scent 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 means of 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, contemporary 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 incorporates 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 ultimate 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 gorgeous 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 distinct particular person, actively in search of contemporary insights and alternatives for progress.
It’s uncommon to have these sorts of revelations with out dedicating years to thought-modifying routines. Via-hikes have a method of accelerating self-evaluation, with life classes lingering in your return.
Since transitioning again to a gentle, full-time workplace atmosphere, these core learnings have light, 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 would like one other long-distance path.
