mountain running | Natureloverswalks

October 2, 2017August 21, 2018

QLD 2017 Mt Sorrow, Thornton Beach, Mission Beach

Queensland 2017 Mt Sorrow, Thornton Beach, Mission Beach.

First night after arrival: Thornton Beach, an old favourite.
Yes, here we go again, a repeat of every other year, in which I am reluctant to go to the tropics as my friends are having fun in the snow in Tasmania, and spring is looking beautiful, and I am equally unwilling to leave it at the end, as I have become spoiled by balmy weather suitable for swimming, by al fresco dining, by running up fabulous mountains in the rainforest each day and by beach walking and photography – to mention just a few of the delights of the Tropical Far North.

We land in Cairns, and I usually run the Blue Arrow track before we leave. This year, I ran it until it forked into a blue-green junction, the blue going off to Mt Lumney, my usual, and the green to Mt Whitfield. I had never tried this option, so took it this year for a change. Residents of Cairns are so lucky to have these beautiful trails through lush rainforest right on their doorstep. The track is very steep indeed: a great introduction to my diet of mt-in-your-face style inclines of this region.

Cape Tribulation, sunset.
Perhaps you find it odd that one of my highlights of being up north is always running up mountains rather than lying on beaches under palm trees, or taking fancy tours like a good tourist, but that’s just how I am. Odd. (Actually, in the case of Mt Sorrow, I have found I do a faster overall time if I power walk the lot rather than if I run for an hour and then die towards the end. It is rather steep, and the final half kilometre is a killer if you’ve gone lactic. I took 66 minutes to the top, so thought that was OK for a tropical workout. I don’t carry a camera, as in workout mode, this is cumbersome. If you want photos, you will find them in the 2013 version. This year was fun for me, as my friend Monika from Tassie, who is doing a locum in Cairns, joined me on the Mt Sorrow day. As it was a workout rather than a bushwalk, we each took it at our own pace, but both enjoyed the sense that the other was on the mountain, happily exercising.

Me, playing on Mission Beach.
And perhaps it is even odder that I love Mission Beach, not primarily because of its beautiful beach, but because there I can do a double run up Bicton Hill in Clump Mountain National Park each day. This, too, is a solid workout for me. Once I’ve had my running binge, I’m ready to swim and walk along beaches , photograph and play with children for the rest of the day. Everyone’s happy at Mission. If there were only flat beach runs, I wouldn’t be quarter as satisfied, as I actually hate flat running. It bores me.

Well, we did visit one tourist haunt: the Babinda Boulders. The clarity of the water and the colour of the green are wonderful here.
And then we moved on to the fabulous Fitzroy Island, but I will give it its own post, as there we had a family bushwalk, so that can ‘stand alone’.

And here are two photos of @thebraidedlena of husskie fame, posing for a few shots at Mission Beach. We love doing photo shoots up here at sunset.

(www.husskie.com)

October 23, 2014November 2, 2018

ITALY Dolomites – a life I used to have

2013

My love affair with the Dolomites dates back several decades – to the late 1970s. BC (Before Children). We drove through – just for a day – but that was enough to baptise my imagination for ever. How could anyone forget those towering hulks of rocks once they’ve been experienced up close? There was something special about them – a quality that would never let me go.

My next interaction with them was in 1997. I had just come 5th in a World Cup race in Austria and was invited by a headhunter to participate at Sexton (ITA). Could my manager (daughter) come too, I asked? Yes. Could she be given an elite start and race juniors? Yes. This meant that all our transport, accommodation and food costs were covered, plus an appearance fee. We were on.

Not exactly resting before the race

Our accommodation, Kreuzbergpass Hotel, was absolutely brilliant, situated with shapely mountains all around, walking and running right from the door, and, almost as exciting, it boasted a famous chef whose meals were utterly memorable. By the time we’d arrived, we’d both just raced the IAAF World Championships, and this Sexton event was in my two-week “let my hair down” period after the Worlds. If you’re going to be a glutton, THIS is the place to do it.

So, here we were in the Dolomites; the pressure races for the year were behind us. Were we going to rest and save our energy at this time of the racing year? No. Every day we went out into the mountains as soon as we could after our sumptuous breakfast, and didn’t reappear until the last setting for dinner. The Italians became worried. They were paying good money to get a performance out of us, and we appeared to have a cavalier attitude to their race. Their concern was not unjustified.

“Australia. You-a no-a rest-a.”

“No worries. Australia very fit-a,” I rather cheekily replied, with a nonchalance that I didn’t quite feel, but it was simply too beautiful to do the right thing and laze by the pool, reclining supinely.

We were expected to rest instead of exploring THIS??
On race day, the foolhardiness of my attitudes sank in as SKY-TV approached me for an interview, and as I watched the normal set of fit mountain runners warming up, and, in this case worse – as they hadn’t just killed themselves racing the Worlds like we had – the Italian XC Ski team had also turned up, and if you know anything about sports’ science, you’ll know that XC skiers are amongst the fittest individuals on earth. Mountain running, more than anything else, is a test of fitness and determination. XC skiers medal in both categories. Help.

Happily, the story ends well. Australia produced what they wanted. Kirsten finished first junior, and in the overall money as well. I won the seniors. Italians love winners.

Tired, but very happy.

Winners are grinners.

We were given amazing treatment post race, including more free food and accommodation, this time up high in the Zsigmondyhuette (above).

Bruce enjoying running in the snow.

Sexton thus has a very special place in my heart, and in 2000, when I was at Klagenfurt University (AUT) for a semester, we returned there as a family to go running in the snow along the lower paths.

AV1 Day 2. 2013

And somewhere in all that, I heard of the Alta Via 1 and 2: walking trails going N to S through the Dolomites. I did some research, looked at David Noble’s superb pictures of AV2 for inspiration, ordered a book on the trail, and made my plans. This one would be solo. I’d test out how “Bruceable” the paths were (with his Parkinson’s, he can no longer do the kind of routes Kirsten and I had done), and design a route that would suit him for some time later. Dolomites, here I come.

April 29, 2014February 28, 2019

VIC Wilsons Promontory 2014 Granite gorging.

Gussy paddles with his mum

Wilsons Promontory April 2014.
I have a love affair with granite. When my girls were babies, we frequently did daywalks in Cathedral Rocks National Park (NSW) with its granite tors the size of large buildings. As youngsters, they cut their orienteering teeth on the granite country surrounding Stanthorpe (QLD), Namadgi National Park (ACT) and Kooyoora State Park (VIC) … and then we moved to Tasmania, where the orienteering north of St Helens is characterised by more wonderful granite. We all dearly love this rock, primarily because of the shapely tors that greet you as you move through the forest – round bulges, sentinels of the bushland. They’re also fun to navigate around, or to climb up and over, or to jump from one to another.

Coastal granite is particularly marvellous, as the white sand it generates produces beaches of a magic colour, whether one is thinking of the sand itself, or of the special blue of the translucent water that accompanies it. We adore Magnetic Island, Wilsons Promontory and, closer to home, the Bay of Fires and Freycinet Peninsula – all for the same reason.

My daughters seem to share my passion, so we were all very happy when my first born asked if we could spend our family Easter at Wilsons Promontory this year. We’d stay at a nearby beach, and walk and swim during the day. Who says “No” to such a request? Not us. Toddler Gussy could play on the beach while the adults in relay combinations could run up mountains and along the tracks of the Prom.

Kirsten on Mt Oberon

The forecast for Friday (Anzac day) was excellent, so Kirsten and I got up in the dark and drove to the Prom for dawn photography, and then had a wonderful run up and down Mt Oberon. I really, really love running up mountains, and don’t get much opportunity to do it these days, so revelled in the chances this holiday gave me to pursue my old ways. The mountains of Europe that were my competing arena in bygone days are, of course, much steeper and longer, but these ones are still fun and pose a pleasant challenge. There is something very liberating about running up a mountain. We had set out nice and early, so enjoyed wonderful lighting from the top, and had the whole mountain to ourselves.

Coastal view, Oberon.

Back at Sandy Point, while Gussy was playing with his mum and the others were surfing, I went for another run, this time on the beach, as it had only taken 25 mins to run up Mt Oberon, and much less down, so I was feeling under-exercised. As I turned around on the return journey I saw a little dot in the distance that grew rapidly as I ran towards it. It was two-year-old Gussy (pursued by his Poppa) running towards me in that quaint style toddlers have, his little legs whirring, his arms flapping for balance. We calculated he ran about two kilometres that day. His face was aglow with excitement as he ran into my arms. Now he was doing what all the adults do, and he was very happy.

K, back down on Squeaky Beach

That afternoon my other daughter and my husband wanted some exercise, so we went back into the Prom and did a fast stride out up Mt Bishop. Again, the lighting was magic, as we’d waited until nearly sunset to do it. It was great to clamber up the summit tor and sit on top and gaze at the beaches below.

Whisky Bay and Picnic Bay, on the way to Mt Bishop

The next day the weather had turned, so my second daughter and I just did a flat run parrallel to the beach: 40 mins in howling gale-force winds and rain. In the afternoon, I persuaded the other adults to run along a track on the coast in the Prom while Yelena minded a sleeping Gus (who, of course, woke up to find us gone yet again). This was a ‘rest day’ as we were to run up another mountain on the morrow. Out we set into the punishing winds on the 12 km coastal track. It was exhilarating.

View from Mt Bishop

My husband and our second daughter on top of Mt Bishop.

The track was pretty protected up until a high point called Lookout Rocks, from where we could gaze out at an expansive purview. I didn’t like what I saw of the continuation of our route: a nose dive down to sea level and along to the point … which meant we’d need to run back up the slippery dip on the return journey. I feared it was too steep to run, given the amount I’d already done in the last couple of days. On we went in the magnificently moody weather. It reminded me of running on the headlands of Emerald Beach in the cyclone last year. The sea below was surging in giant hillocks of water, all churned white from the wind. The lighting was a yellowy-grey. Surprisingly, I did manage to run the return journey, as did my daughter and her husband, so we were all happy.

Keith and I on the track

Keith and I stop to take a look at the view below. It seemed a long way to go down and then back up again at the end of a full day.

The sun came out for about 5 seconds – just long enough for me to grab Kirsten’s camera and take this

Kirsten running up boulders at Tongue Pt

The next morning we decided not to get up in the dark. Poor Gussy had woken up from every sleep to find that some of the people he loves (and always his Nanna) had gone running. This day we ‘d have breakfast together and then run while he played on the beach. He appeared in my bed in the dark at 6 a.m., fully expecting me to be getting on my running clothes. “I’m VERY, very fast, Nanna,” he announced. He was obviously angling for inclusion in today’s expedition. He whirred his tiny legs around to demonstrate. I said I’d run up mountains with him when he gets bigger, and he was happy enough with that, although not entirely appeased.

Yelena back down on Squeaky beach after the mountain. The sun has now come back out.

On this day, it was my second daughter who was going to run skywards with me, and we’d chosen Mt Bishop to be our mountain, as we’d only walked up it so far. The weather was murky, and we already had photos from the top, so for the first time we ran without the burden of cameras. Nice!

… and then we did some beach and headland running while Bruce surfed

As with Mt Oberon, we were at the top in under half an hour, so made up the ullage on a track down below, between Squeaky Beach and Picnic Bay, the perfect ending to a granite beach extravaganza. My husband ran part way up and down the mountain, and had a final surf while we did the track. Farewell Prom.

October 11, 2013August 21, 2018

QLD 2013 Mt Sorrow, Walshs Pyramid Mission Beach

Queensland – Mt Sorrow, Walshs Pyramid and Clump Mt NP.

We were in mountain mode, the very best way to be. I had already climbed Mt Sorrow, so originally had no intention of doing it again this trip. It was another mountain with very little to see from the top. However, with one day of flattish running along beaches and boardwalks for my exercise, I was feeling restless and height-deprived, so decided to do Mt Sorrow again. Last time I’d done it at sunset, and almost unintentionally, as the terrified official Queensland bumph had said one needed all day to do it, and I only had an hour of light left when I set out, so was surprised to find myself at the top after a bit over an hour. I descended in the near dark.

Above and below, view 2009.

This time I knew the ropes, so knew it wasn’t a mega-undertaking, but rather a normal morning’s exercise. I was at the top in 1 hr 4 mins, and this time got a tiny view. Unlike last time, I could see the rainforest this edition, and really enjoyed the whole route. It’s nice not to be racing the impending dark, and to just look around and enjoy what’s there. And what’s NOT there is the mass of smoking, yelling tourists. Hoorah.

They seem to have infested all the lower areas. Every swimming hole we went to, we drove straight away from, due to noise and smoke pollution. But up here on the mountain it was green and the air smelled wonderful, and the only sounds were those of the birds. I also had a glorious sense of freedom, as I did this one alone, so didn’t have to modify my pace to appease anyone else. I delighted in the liberty of it all: wild and free on the mountain, just how I like to be. I swung like an orangutang from tree to tree as I dodged roots on the way back down. I was very satisfied as I reunited with my husband who’d had a lovely time swimming in my absence.

The next day it was Walshs Pyramid’s turn. This one is 922 ms high, and the start seems from the map to be about 50 ms asl. When we first saw this many years ago driving from the south, we marvelled at its perfect pyramidal shape. It was no surprise to see that its official name gave testimony to that form. Unlike the other two mountains of this trip, this one is in very dry bush. It also has no water. Because of the general heat, I opted for a late summitting experience, …. but was further delayed, so needed to head up pretty quickly, in a not too unusual race with time. Even setting out way too late as I did, it was quite hot for the first half hour. I also took a wrong turn, and followed it for too long, annoyed that the map at the bottom was not reflected in what this track was doing, and that what it was doing was counter intuitive (it was contouring, not climbing). I eventually decided to go back to the last seen marker and examine things more carefully. This happened again later, but not for so long. There are many false trails up there, and it doesn’t pay to be in the kind of hurry that I was in. With darkness closing in, I was delighted to meet three very nice, NON-smoking Germans who said I was about 20 mins from the top. I was delighted on this occasion not to be the only one on the mountain. I dashed on, enjoyed the view – definitely the best of all the views, especially on this occasion with the sun setting and the whole sky red, the mountains all around marvellous silhouettes in the roseate gloom. The Germans had 40 mins on me when I departed the summit. I descended far too quickly for safety, but wanted to get down before total dark – or at least reach the others and descend with them. I arrived back two minutes after they did, once more very, very satisfied with a wonderful mountain. I was very sad not to have taken my camera on this one, but speed had been very important on this occasion, and the weight of my camera is not insignificant.
We picked up the rest of the family at the airport and moved to Mission Beach.

There at Mission, my daily drag was to run in Clump Mountain National Park, up a nice rising with an excellent view from the top over the ocean studded with islands, the beautiful coastal beaches and the hinterland. The bumph says this takes one and a half hours. I take fourteen and a half minutes to run to the top, less to descend. The run is so short I have to do it twice in a session to get enough exercise. The usual dangers and warnings attend – the possibilities of being attacked by cassowaries, stinging trees, dehydration and more. The Swedish girl with me was quite frightened, and I had to do a great deal of reassuring before she nervously set out with me. They are very, very scared of being sued in Queensland, to an extent that cripples activity
.

Unfortunately I was racing down the hill quickly on my final descent on the last day, and not paying attention to the ground at all, and I rolled my ankle on a pebble (an activity for which I have a profound talent, thanks to my former orienteering days that have weakened all my ligaments in that area). Luckily that was the last run on the schedule anyway. Luckily for the Queensland park I was in, I consider that to be my stupidity, not theirs, so did not think about suing. I was reduced to crawling or hobbling using a broom handle as an improvised crutch, but that didn’t interfere with kayaking, so all was well. I crawled down the beach, climbed into the kayak and set out for the distant reef across the cerulean waters.

Having not wanted this holiday as I was about to land, I now didn’t want to end it. I had accustomed myself beautifully to rainforest running, warm days with balmy evenings and a life of mountains and swimming. Pity there aren’t more trails up those plentiful mountains. I tried pushing through the rainforest for an ascent of Cape Tribulation (just a bump) but was driven back by the tangled mass of undergrowth and the possibility of unwittingly grabbing a python as I pulled myself up by tree trunks. Besides, I love going quickly, and for that one needs at least a vague pad. I went over the saddle on Cape Tribulation many times, staring mournfully at the forest that had defeated me, but also knowing that there was quite possibly no view from the top anyway. Rainforest trees are tall, and I am very small – a bad combination for viewing.

October 1, 1989July 28, 2018

Orienteering and Mountain Running – not walking, Part One

Louise Fairfax: Orienteering and Mountain Running. Part One

1989 World Orienteering Championships, Sweden

1989 World Champs, Sweden

1990 Asia-Pacific Champs, and World Cup events, USA and Canada (1 gold, 1 silver)

As an orienteer and mountain runner (inter alia), I have enjoyed seeing many beautiful parts of the world, and have made many very special friends. The diversity of forest and cornucopia of superlative views from an abundance of different peaks have made me very aware, not only of how extraordinarily lucky I am to have seen such things, but, and possibly more significantly, the importance of such places to the peace of our souls, as well as to the continuation of our species, and to the contribution to the happiness of those yet to come. Our world is such an amazing place – whether we are thinking of forests, rivers or the views to eternity from a mountain top. We have to fight hard to keep these dwindling places of beauty alive.

The blogsite is titled ‘walks’, and I have put in lots of those. I have always intended to add in some of our European distance walks once I had written up the Tassie ones.

Bit by bit, European sections will be added. I am not sure how to separate them from Tassie ones (and I want to keep the two facets distinct), so my first solution is to put them all as predating the walking, even though there is an overlap. Here is my first posting on European experiences, and I am beginning with some of my happiest moments as an international competitor. These photos are taken from my comp file, and not my separate training file. One thing at a time. This one is already complete, so can be posted. Perhaps these photos help contextualise some of what comes later. Who I was is an integral part of who I am still. One moves on, but never entirely away from what went on before.