Section 4: Not Giants but Windmills

I’ve spent a lot of time over this section thinking about Don Quixote. This is partly because we walked under the massive blades of wind turbines outside of Hallett, providing a convenient literary parallel; and partly because I’m tickled by the quixotic nature of what we’re doing.

Following the trail means rejecting logic. We will hike two extra days - or 60km - to reach a destination that is half that by road. Common sense would reject such errant calculus.

We also got caught in a massive storm.

A casual observer might have witnessed two fools screaming their tiny defiance into the wind while hail slapped them in the face and they became increasingly sodden.

It’s hard to think of a more quixotic contest than man versus storm.

To go back a few steps. 

Our point of departure for this section was Crystal Brook - We stayed at the Royal Hotel and were well looked after by Bridgette and her family.

It was a short day to Hiskey’s Hut, a cottage that has been restored by the Friends of the Heysen for use by walkers.

We learned that the hut had been the site of an ongoing conflict between volunteers working to green the surrounds and local sheep who see the delicious young saplings delivered to them as fair and convenient game.

U-baa Eats?

The volunteers’ tactics have evolved over time and the new trees are provided with suits of armour hammered out of tin cans. It appears to be working.

We shared the hut with Joe, a northbound hiker from Tasmania who is ticking off one of his bucket list items in walking the Heysen from end to end.

Rain set in the next morning as we hiked through Georgetown toward Curnow’s Hut. This was a day of soggy paddocks and windy, cloudy ridge lines. Wet feet all day made it something of a slog, however, we had a surprise waiting.

I reached the hut to find fires going in both fireplaces, fresh bread and bottles of wine on the table and a Dutch oven full of delicious stew cooking away.

Not long after, our friends Neil and Jenna wandered down a nearby hill to each receive a damp, furiously exuberant hug.

They both hiked the Pacific Crest Trail over six months in 2018, where ‘trail magic’ - random acts of kindness and support for through-hikers - is a regular occurrence and something that helped them complete their own epic endeavour.

They had decided to drive up to meet us and spread a little trail magic of their own on a day where it was very much needed.

We were also joined by Callan and Kate who were hiking northbound and who were quickly invited to join us for dinner.

It was an excellent afternoon and evening thanks to the company, Neil’s delicious stew and a few welcome glasses of red.

Thank you Neil and Jenna. You are amazing.

From Curnow’s Hut the next destination was Spalding. In contrast to the previous days miserable whether, it was a stunning morning with the rising sun illuminating residual fog that had settled in the valley.

The morning’s walking was similarly spectacular taking us through a long valley full of sheep and pockets of remnant native vegetation.

The afternoon’s walking was along an open concrete viaduct which was fairly uninspiring but made for fast going given the good path.

Upon reaching the Spalding Hotel where we would be staying, it became apparent that they were closed for renovations. Nonetheless, Fletcher and Ange welcomed us in amidst the chaos, pointed us in the direction of the washing machine and dryer and cooked us some excellent pizzas for dinner.

I’m keen to head back here post-renovations to visit as it’s clear that Fletcher and Ange are turning the pub into something special. Great stay, would recommend.

The following day dawned bright and sunny and we were headed to Whistling Trig, situated atop Mundunnie Hill.

All the clues were there from the outset.

The owner of the general store letting us know storms were forecast for the early afternoon.

A local who dropped in to the general store who let us know that storms were forecast for the early afternoon.

The fact we were in a part of the start where wind farms were abundant.

Still, we finished our breakfast and headed out into a glorious morning.

We met a delegation of rogue sheep who had clearly decided that flock life was not for them.

We followed massive pipelines through verdant green pastures with sheep grazing in between and around them.

Eventually we began the climb up Mundunnie Hill, heading toward Whistling Trig. It was pleasant though windy and the old slate stone walls guided us along.

Before to long the wind became fierce and we could see the storm clouds rolling in. We were going to be caught in the storm on top of the hill with kilometres of hard climbs and descents.

To say it was a humbling experience would be an understatement. The power of the wind and the numbing rain and hail pushed me into overdrive. Not anxious per se, but with the sober realisation that we needed to get off the hill quickly while ensuring we stayed sure-footed and safe.

We battled our way up to the Whistling Trig ‘campsite’ - a water tank and a bench, having made the earlier decision to fill up all our water bottles and bags and find somewhere to camp off the hill and out of the wind.

As an aside, marking Whistling Trig as a campsite seems erroneous at best. It is far to exposed and regularly subject to high winds making it unpredictable and dangerous in bad weather.

I would add my voice to that of other hikers in strongly encouraging the Friends of the Heysen to construct a new campsite around this location.

Having filled our bottles and enjoyed the meagre windbreak provided by the tank, we fought our way down the hill while being blown sideways.

The cold, steady rain at the bottom was a welcome relief from the pelting conditions above and we made our way along a well-graded road leading through a sheep grazier’s property.

We were on the look out for a possible campsite as we were now stuck between Whistling Trig and Hallett.

Luckily, we saw a car driving through the property from paddock to paddock and as it headed back towards us I waved it down. The driver, Brad worked on the property and I asked him whether we would be able to camp on a tree line that bounded the homestead. 

After a call to the owners, Brad let us know that we could camp in a saltbush grove at the front of the property which provided us a soft, sheltered pitch for the night.

Given we were cold, soaked and tired this felt like an absolute gift. We even got a lucky break in the weather and managed to pitch up without rain.

Once I got warm and ate my dehydrated meal (which was glorious, proving that context is everything) I happily greeted oblivion.

A big positive from our previous day’s sodden misadventure was that we were a lot closer to Hallett than planned. I was keen to make tracks so packed up my wet everything and struck out.

The notable highlight of the day was passing underneath the huge wind turbines just outside of Hallett, watching their blades repetitively cast shadows on the trail.

I also bumped into Nel, a northbound hiker from Queensland, who had done her best to rug up against the South Australian cold and whose pack was half her size.

Reaching Hallett it became clear that most of it was closed on a Tuesday. Hallett Coffee & Collectables was the sole standout. Run by the inimitable Tristan, I drifted in and immediately ordered a sandwich and coffee.

After explaining that Sim and I were hiking the Heysen Trail and that we had spent the previous day in a storm, Tristan helped sort us accomodation for the night.

Sim wandered in not long after and also ordered a sandwich. Then we ordered another sandwich, a muffin and a pot of tea. 

Tristan also let Sim look for a hole in his air mattress on the floor of his pristine establishment. When said hole couldn’t be found, he then let Sim submerge the mattress in his ornamental fountain next door.

My favourite moment was when a Hallett local came into the store to let Tristan know that a ‘man was in his front yard putting a mattress in his fountain’. Tristan didn’t even blink.

Incidentally, Sim fixed his mattress.

Tristan eventually ushered us out of his shop at closing time and before too long, Chris, the owner of both the general store and our accomodation for the night, returned from Clare to greet us.

He not only opened the store so we could buy supplies, took our dinner order but also sold us a six pack of Coopers Stout.

But the best part?

We were going to be staying in a train!

The accomodation was a converted train carriage with a room for each of us, nicely appointed with train memorabilia, a hot shower and comfy bed.

After we’d pulled out or wet gear to dry on the porch and done a round of sink laundry, we drank our beers alongside our hand delivered burgers and bedded down for a warm, dry night.

So from Hallett to Caroona Creek campsite which involved a hike up and down Mt Bryan with minimal wind and rain but not much visibility.

We also reached the official halfway point at the Old Mt Bryan East school where we stopped for lunch.

The afternoon was a hike through the beautiful  Caroona Creek Conservation Park and the stunning, rugged Tourilie Gorge.

It felt strange to be back in near pristine wilderness again and felt almost like we had returned to the Flinders Ranges.

It was also lovely to see the native wildflowers blooming, a reminder of Spring’s fast approach.

Reaching our campsite after a hard 32km day we met Glenn, a retired electrical engineer who was on his second through-hike of the Heysen Trail and who had also hiked the Larapinta and Bibbulman Trails.

It was great to chat with Glenn, listen to his experiences and to hear his advice about what was ahead for us. A truly lovely bloke.

The penultimate day of the section comprised a beautiful morning making our way out of the park and an afternoon which I found so thoroughly objectionable I expect my curses are still echoing on the many, many mind numbingly dull hills the trail demanded I climb.

I’m not going to labour the point but I will say that if you like climbing and descending seemingly endless hills and you’re able to chloroform your imagination and put your brain into neutral for the duration, you may well enjoy this section.

Highlights included sighting a pair of eagles on one of the hilltops, the lovely Wandallah Creek campsite and the hawk/falcon that stopped to perch on a fence post while we were eating our dinner.

Our final day into Burra was a short one, though not without a full morning of more tedious hills! So many!

We met John on the track into Burra, a northbound hiker who regaled us with tales of wild weather down south; and who is hiking sections before hitch hiking back to his car which he leaves at the start of the previous section. Another lovely bloke from interstate (not sure where) who had nothing but nice things to say about South Australians and their warm hospitality.

So we’ve finally reached Burra and are staying in an old workers cottage on the edge of town. It feels like a palace after several days in a tent.

I was directed to have an immediate shower due to my egregious odour and the laundry is getting done so clean clothes and better smells to look forward to.

My mate Shannon is heading up tonight for dinner and to hike with us tomorrow, along with friends Karl and Annelise. Sim’s parents are also heading up tonight and it will be great to see them too.

Section 4 was a hard one. Deliberately longer days and much more climbing than expected. The weather also played a big part, showing how quickly it can turn and how important it is to adapt to changed circumstances.

Hard, boring days also bring their own challenge but I always hold to the idea that as long as I keep moving forward, I’ll be somewhere new tomorrow. 

I’m starting to get a niggle in my hip and hope that some rest and a string of shorter days will settle things down.

It’s strange to think that we’re now over halfway and coming up on 700km. Time seems to move in odd ways, with the days being both short and long at the same time.

Overall it’s been a notably less beautiful section - more one that I’ve felt compelled to get done. Nonetheless it’s seen some great moments both in the people we’ve met and the landscape we’ve travelled through.

We’re now in that end of section lull of getting jobs done, finishing blogs, checking emails and calling loved ones. I always enjoy it.

Section 5 now beckons and we will continue to tromp our transitory, liminal path through to Tanunda where friends and family await.

‘Quixotic’ is defined as ‘foolishly impractical’ which seems a fitting description of this venture.

But it is also defined as ‘marked by lofty romantic ideas’ which I think fits just as well.