Today was a much longer walk than the last couple. Walked for a solid three hours to haul my sorry self to Catherine Hill Bay, an old coal mining Village in one of the most stunning coves. I stopped at the renowned pub on the hill for breakfast which i'm sure to your surprise didn't include any amber ales. The publican and staff were iconic Australians, if there is such a thing. Wonderfully warm, welcoming and down to earth. After an hours break and a barrel of laughs I hit the road again.
Tried to take myself on every short cut possible but all were dead ends! Defeated I took the long and known road to Budgelwoi.
Long day = tired = awesome sleep.
Please donate by calling oxfam on 1800088110 or log on to www.everydayhero.com.au/glen_hammermeister
Cheers
Wednesday, 10 August 2011
Sunday, 7 August 2011
Day 72: Redhead to Swansea
Arrived in Swansea around lunchtime today. Haven't seen much but looks beautiful so far. Starting to feel closer to Sydney. The finish line is in sight and its getting exciting.
This is just a quick note before I head off to roam the streets for donations.
Please donate by following the link:
www.everydayhero.com.au/glen_hammermeister or
By calling Oxfam Australia on 1800 088 110.
Any donation great or small is sincerely appreciated.
This is just a quick note before I head off to roam the streets for donations.
Please donate by following the link:
www.everydayhero.com.au/glen_hammermeister or
By calling Oxfam Australia on 1800 088 110.
Any donation great or small is sincerely appreciated.
Day 71: Newcastle to Redhead
The weather man sure does like to forecast rain for my departures. left in light drizzling rain but without a rain coat. Rain became heavier so i put on the jacket.....rain stops immediately. Can't complain though the sunshine was very much welcome.
Just a short walk today down to Redhead. great to be back on the walk!
Just a short walk today down to Redhead. great to be back on the walk!
Day 65: Stockton to Newcastle
Enjoyed a sleep-in today and a leisurely stroll to Newcastle. After spending so much time alone in some rather remote locations it was a little daunting getting off the ferry and walking through the streets of a city again. But it didn't take long to get accustom to Newcastle. The people were warm and very supportive of the cause. Historic buildings, great beaches and loads of trendy cafes and made the weeks stay very enjoyable indeed. There's not long to go now and soon I'll be setting off on the last stint of the journey. The past 10weeks have absolutely flown by. It seems like only last week that I left the Gold Coast. And on that note time is short so I must be off to ramp up the fundraising. Stay tuned!
www.everydayhero.com.au/glen_hammermeister or
By calling Oxfam Australia on 1800 088 110.
Any donation great or small is sincerely appreciated.
Friday, 5 August 2011
Day 64: One Mile to Stockton
Sand. sand. sand. Everywhere I look Stockton sand. It's under my feet. It fills my shoe. It's in every pocket of every bag. It finds it's way into every nook and cranny it can find. It lines in the creases and crevices of folded material and covers the flater surfaces entirely with time. There seems to be no stopping the extent to which it will explore. It's in the clutch of every wave, and the wind laced with its granules. It's in my eyes and alas it's sand that fills my mind.
The Stockton sand dunes connecting Anna Bay to Stockton were my world today. Crossing over the last rocks at Anna Bay there was sand as far as the eye could see except of course for the deep blue ocean blanketing everything further east. Now on this little walk of mine I've seen a sand dune or two and I've seen some pretty big ones too. But sand dunes as big as these, surely there are few?
I walked for a good hour or two along the hard flat sand at low tide before my curiosity led me into the heart of Stockton sand dunes. What lay before me was mesmorising. Some fellows I had spoken to previously likened the dunes to those in the Sahara desert. Such a comparison indeed seems fitting given that the movie Sahara was apparrently filmed here. And yes amoungst the largest of the dunes where no life appeared to exist, not hint of ocean or of trees, I certainly did feel like I was in a vast desolate desert. The vastness, the size and colours were captivating. Every dune had been individually sculptured by the wind. Colours and patterns on the faces appeared to show signs of the moisture content. The peaks of the dunes, at least one side, were defined clearly by a firm crisp edge almost like that on a solid block of wood. In some places the sand was hard and firm. In others it was soft as a fresh fall of snow. Regardless of how keen the eye was in its analysis, the difference in colour or texture of the surface gave very few, if any, accurate clues of it's structure. Only by trial and error could one determine the profile.
As I took a step onto the sandy path the right foot sunk about 10cm through the thin crusty surface. By this stage momentum already committed me to taking another step which sank even further. I was now up to my knees in sand. Scenes from old Westerns where cowboys and their ponies got caught in quicksand pits flickered across my mind. I wondered if I moved any further if I might just continue to sink so far that the sand would swallow me whole. After 600 plus kilometers what a way to go?
As I had experienced a couple of days ago the first hour went really well. During hour number 2 discomforts nagged and threatened to halt progress. I pushed on. Hour 3 and 4 the senses became somewhat numb. I was beyond caring about how far I'd come or, have to go, or about the discomforting backpack. But by 4.5hrs I cracked and had to stop. I had discovered that 35km of sand is a bloody long way to walk in a day. At one point I imagined that an enormous hour glass so large it contained all the sand on the beach was the actual timer being used to measure today's journey by. The previous 4hr cycle continued but with much shorter intervals.
I passed a sea snake and a ship wreck on the beach as the sun began it's decent towards the horizon. Light grew longer and weaker and a noticeable cooling began. F/A-18 Hornet jets from the nearby Williamtown RAAF base seemed to stalk me for most of the afternoon. The huge dunes blocked out the roaring sound of fighters tearing through the sky and so concealed their presence until the last second when they were already upon me. The squadron practiced dog fights and landing and take off sequences. When two jets simultaneously commenced a take-off it sounded like they were tearing the very fabric of the atmosphere apart. What a hair raising thrill it would be to pilot one those jets. Time ticked by and as the last grain of sand trickled into the lower bulb of the hour glass I had at long last conquered Stockton dunes.
Only a hop, skip and ferry to and I'll be in old Newcastle town tomorrow.
Please donate by following the link:
www.everydayhero.com.au/glen_hammermeister or
By calling Oxfam Australia on 1800 088 110.
Any donation great or small is sincerely appreciated.
 | ||||
| Anna Bay
|
I walked for a good hour or two along the hard flat sand at low tide before my curiosity led me into the heart of Stockton sand dunes. What lay before me was mesmorising. Some fellows I had spoken to previously likened the dunes to those in the Sahara desert. Such a comparison indeed seems fitting given that the movie Sahara was apparrently filmed here. And yes amoungst the largest of the dunes where no life appeared to exist, not hint of ocean or of trees, I certainly did feel like I was in a vast desolate desert. The vastness, the size and colours were captivating. Every dune had been individually sculptured by the wind. Colours and patterns on the faces appeared to show signs of the moisture content. The peaks of the dunes, at least one side, were defined clearly by a firm crisp edge almost like that on a solid block of wood. In some places the sand was hard and firm. In others it was soft as a fresh fall of snow. Regardless of how keen the eye was in its analysis, the difference in colour or texture of the surface gave very few, if any, accurate clues of it's structure. Only by trial and error could one determine the profile.
One such trial and error occured while I was making tracks back to the beach. Standing on the highest peak I could find, I gazed out towards the distant sea. At the bottom of this dune, in the large wide swale the recent rain had given birth to an expansive network of freshwater pools. From my perch I decided on a route back to the beach. One part of the route would take me between two pools of water. As I mentioned before, it's virtually impossible to determine the structure of the sand by simply looking at it. The sand between the two pools was at least 10m wide and appeared very dry. I couldn't have imagined what happened next. 
I thought about turning around but had no hope of doing so without falling down in the process. If I did fall I didn't like my chances of moving much further with the heavy load and nothing firm to hold onto. I dared to take a third step. It too sunk to my knee but no further. That was a bonus and a tentative permission to sludge on. After 8 steps, all as deep as the previous, I was out of the quicksand pit. Shoes, socks and feet were completely soaked. Perfect conditions for blisters. Impatient to finish the leg and/or just too lazy to change footwear I walked on. As anticipated, blisters arrived not long after. I did not stop.
 |
| Sea Snake |
I passed a sea snake and a ship wreck on the beach as the sun began it's decent towards the horizon. Light grew longer and weaker and a noticeable cooling began. F/A-18 Hornet jets from the nearby Williamtown RAAF base seemed to stalk me for most of the afternoon. The huge dunes blocked out the roaring sound of fighters tearing through the sky and so concealed their presence until the last second when they were already upon me. The squadron practiced dog fights and landing and take off sequences. When two jets simultaneously commenced a take-off it sounded like they were tearing the very fabric of the atmosphere apart. What a hair raising thrill it would be to pilot one those jets. Time ticked by and as the last grain of sand trickled into the lower bulb of the hour glass I had at long last conquered Stockton dunes.
 |
| F/A-18 Hornet |
Only a hop, skip and ferry to and I'll be in old Newcastle town tomorrow.
Please donate by following the link:
www.everydayhero.com.au/glen_hammermeister or
By calling Oxfam Australia on 1800 088 110.
Any donation great or small is sincerely appreciated.
Wednesday, 3 August 2011
Day 63: Tea Gardens to One Mile
While travelling down this great coast of ours one thing I have found some deal of curiosity in is the naming of towns. As I review the plans for the route ahead or as I reflect on the road taken I alway give a moments wonder to how and when these locations came to be known as they are and who was repsonible for their naming. Some like Tea Gardens, or One Mile have presumably taken their names from the obvious physical characteristics. But others like Hat Head and Old Bar intrigue me. And then there's places like Murder's Bar, Jackass Flats, or Sheeps-head gully-sinister or satirical I'm not quite sure what to make of their history. As many of us know a large number of names have Aboriginal origins. Or towns like Woolgoolga, are derivities of, in this case from Wee-Gullga, a name for a native plum in the area. But given the complex indigenous language and the very poor ear that european settlers apparently had for aboriginal phonetics it is very likely that many words and names were incorrectly translated by early pioneers and planners.
Rain clouds loomed and threatened from the moment I woke until the time I went to bed. From Tea Gardens I crossed the harbour to Nelson Bay by ferry and then followed the coastline past Tomaree Headland, Shoal Bay, Fingal Bay and finally onto One Mile. Every bay and headland was picturesque in its own unique way and if only the sun were shining a little brighter would they have been revealed in their true glory. For most of the day I trudged on through the rain until I had had enough and made camp at One Mile. I let the pics speak for today's walk.
Tomorrow its off along Stockton beach. A number of people I've spoken to have made a particular note of the remarkable topography of the Stockton sand dunes which I'm about to encounter. I'm very much looking forward to checking them out.
Please donate by following the link:
www.everydayhero.com.au/glen_hammermeister or
By calling Oxfam Australia on 1800 088 110.
Any donation great or small is sincerely appreciated.
 |
| Port Stephen Headlands |
Rain clouds loomed and threatened from the moment I woke until the time I went to bed. From Tea Gardens I crossed the harbour to Nelson Bay by ferry and then followed the coastline past Tomaree Headland, Shoal Bay, Fingal Bay and finally onto One Mile. Every bay and headland was picturesque in its own unique way and if only the sun were shining a little brighter would they have been revealed in their true glory. For most of the day I trudged on through the rain until I had had enough and made camp at One Mile. I let the pics speak for today's walk.
 |
| Fingal Bay |
 |
| Fingal Bay |
 |
| Dunes at Zenith Beach |
 |
| Zenith Beach |
 |
| The final hurdle to One Mile |
Tomorrow its off along Stockton beach. A number of people I've spoken to have made a particular note of the remarkable topography of the Stockton sand dunes which I'm about to encounter. I'm very much looking forward to checking them out.
Please donate by following the link:
www.everydayhero.com.au/glen_hammermeister or
By calling Oxfam Australia on 1800 088 110.
Any donation great or small is sincerely appreciated.
Day 62: Big Gibber to Tea Gardens
The plan of attack for today was to make it to Myall Shores to restock for what would then be a following day's saunter down to Tea Gardens. But things didn't quite turn out as I expected...
Walking 15km down the beach from Big Gibber I turned westward and entered the brush again to cut a short track across and onto Mungo Brush Road. Consulting my gps maps I felt reasonably confident that I could find myself an old mining road track to lead my way. Disappearing into the vegetation I hacked my through no more than 100 maybe 150m of greenery before coming to a prolonged stop at the base of the second dune. Faced by another wall of branches meshed together bravado was put aside and common sense pravailed. I turned around and went to go the long way round.
After an unknown amount of time, probably not that long, I stumbled on a 4wd track connecting the beach to the Mungo Brush Road I was searching for. Heading north on the black stuff I back tracked towards Myall Shores which was 5km further up. Along the way I noticed that all of the designated camping sites to my left had been inundated with water. It wasn't until the following day that I would learn that the water line is usually 10m back from where it currently stood and in most places was lined with a sandy shore. To my right a swamp of reeds and tea trees expanded from the shoulder of the road back east towards the sea. Discovering this swamp I was very much glad I didn't persue the short cut route only to find myself faced with this unbeatable obstacle.
Myall shores is actually on the northern shore of Myall lake but it's usually connected to the south by a small ferry. Following the road between lake and swamp it was with great disappoinment I soon discovered the ferry to Myall Shore was out of service. The flooding lake made it impossible for passangers to board or disembark on either shore. Instantly I realised there would be no clean water and no shops to restock for sometime yet to come. After already backtracking I was guttered by the situation I found myself in. With a deep sigh and momentary thought of self-pitty I turned on heel and walked south once more towards Tea Gardens.
By this stage my water reserves were running reasonably low. I had about 600ml of water to last another 15-20km. The situation wasn't critical but it was certainly far from ideal. If desparate I knew I could drink the brackish lake water. To conserve energy and water consumption I focused on slowing my breathing. 8 breaths per minute if my memory serves me correct. I kept my mouth closed and breathed only through my nose. I allowed myself one mouth full of water only when partched. It's difficult to ascertain the impact of such measures but I suspect they were probably more akin to a placebo. Whether it was more mind than matter I did discover some benefits from adopting the practices noted.
When faced with a challenge like this it is interesting to reflect on the cycles one's outlook turns through. Personally I found that an inital short-lived frustration sweeps across you when you first realise what lay ahead. Then a train of rational thought begins and practical plans begin to take shape which will hopefully provide a successful solution to the problem faced. As progress is made this planning phase is succeed by a powerful sense of empowerment, a real confidence that the distance can be made, and maybe in a shorter time than previously conceived. However, physical discomforts slowly gnaw away at the positive mindset until you find yourself just wishing that you were already at your destination. Are we there yet? No. Are we there yet? No. Are we...... the child in the back seat continued to ask.
In these mad times I often wish I had my Ipod. Surely I could call upon hendrix, the zeps, the stones or any number of the 15000 or so tracks stored to distract me from the present and whisk away my mind to another place and time. But I left the Ipod at home for a purpose and this was it. I wanted to be completely conscious of every thought and emotion I experienced on this journey. I feared that if I did use the Ipod in such a situation I would fail to discover and experience these emotional troughs. Despite their heavy black weight, I now know these lows are just as important as the highs, for they serve as reference points, markers against which the good times can be compared. Just as a black text would never be as bold without a white base, so too would the emotional and scenic highs be lacking of luster without the adversary lows. It's times like these that give the great moments the distinction and rememberance they deserve. Ever so slowly I began to come to grips with the situation,the discomfort and the great distance still to cover. Slow and steady, one foot in front of the next, numb became the mind as I learnt to embracing the moment. Time permits all endeavours and as she passed hour on end I found myself at the destination I yearned for.
This was not the way I had planned to spend the last 2 days but I guess on the bright side I've caught up an extra day. I've said all it is I have to say, its now time to hit the hay.
Throw a dollar or two this way.
Please donate by following the link:
www.everydayhero.com.au/glen_hammermeister or
By calling Oxfam Australia on 1800 088 110.
Any donation great or small is sincerely appreciated.
 |
| Sunrise from Gibber |
 |
| The not so short short-cut to Mungo Brush Rd. |
 |
| Swamp at the back of the dunes |
Myall shores is actually on the northern shore of Myall lake but it's usually connected to the south by a small ferry. Following the road between lake and swamp it was with great disappoinment I soon discovered the ferry to Myall Shore was out of service. The flooding lake made it impossible for passangers to board or disembark on either shore. Instantly I realised there would be no clean water and no shops to restock for sometime yet to come. After already backtracking I was guttered by the situation I found myself in. With a deep sigh and momentary thought of self-pitty I turned on heel and walked south once more towards Tea Gardens.
By this stage my water reserves were running reasonably low. I had about 600ml of water to last another 15-20km. The situation wasn't critical but it was certainly far from ideal. If desparate I knew I could drink the brackish lake water. To conserve energy and water consumption I focused on slowing my breathing. 8 breaths per minute if my memory serves me correct. I kept my mouth closed and breathed only through my nose. I allowed myself one mouth full of water only when partched. It's difficult to ascertain the impact of such measures but I suspect they were probably more akin to a placebo. Whether it was more mind than matter I did discover some benefits from adopting the practices noted.
 |
| Tramped twice: The road to and from Myall Shore |
When faced with a challenge like this it is interesting to reflect on the cycles one's outlook turns through. Personally I found that an inital short-lived frustration sweeps across you when you first realise what lay ahead. Then a train of rational thought begins and practical plans begin to take shape which will hopefully provide a successful solution to the problem faced. As progress is made this planning phase is succeed by a powerful sense of empowerment, a real confidence that the distance can be made, and maybe in a shorter time than previously conceived. However, physical discomforts slowly gnaw away at the positive mindset until you find yourself just wishing that you were already at your destination. Are we there yet? No. Are we there yet? No. Are we...... the child in the back seat continued to ask.
In these mad times I often wish I had my Ipod. Surely I could call upon hendrix, the zeps, the stones or any number of the 15000 or so tracks stored to distract me from the present and whisk away my mind to another place and time. But I left the Ipod at home for a purpose and this was it. I wanted to be completely conscious of every thought and emotion I experienced on this journey. I feared that if I did use the Ipod in such a situation I would fail to discover and experience these emotional troughs. Despite their heavy black weight, I now know these lows are just as important as the highs, for they serve as reference points, markers against which the good times can be compared. Just as a black text would never be as bold without a white base, so too would the emotional and scenic highs be lacking of luster without the adversary lows. It's times like these that give the great moments the distinction and rememberance they deserve. Ever so slowly I began to come to grips with the situation,the discomfort and the great distance still to cover. Slow and steady, one foot in front of the next, numb became the mind as I learnt to embracing the moment. Time permits all endeavours and as she passed hour on end I found myself at the destination I yearned for.
This was not the way I had planned to spend the last 2 days but I guess on the bright side I've caught up an extra day. I've said all it is I have to say, its now time to hit the hay.
Throw a dollar or two this way.
Please donate by following the link:
www.everydayhero.com.au/glen_hammermeister or
By calling Oxfam Australia on 1800 088 110.
Any donation great or small is sincerely appreciated.
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