© 1990 Carl Sarelius
© 1990 ANZURA, Australia & New Zealand Urantia Association
Supplement to Six-0-Six, VBH 3740, vol 11 No 6, Nov/Dec 1990
(FEBRUARY — APRIL 1990)
Eight years ago, my life was saved by triple bypass heart surgery.
In February this year I retired — and decided in gratitude to raise money for the National Heart Foundation. I also wanted to encourage people to be physically active after a heart operation — because I believe that a little bit of attention to the food we eat, combined with suitable physical activity is the best assurance for a healthy life.
So my idea was born; to walk back packing, from Melbourne to Sydney, a distance of approximately 1200 ~km.
I took the train from Sydney to Melbourne, with my pack, all keen to start the walk. I was lucky to have a son in Melbourne, who gave me lodging for a couple of days and help with the final preparations.
The weather and the pack were going to be my greatest problems. Many people asked “What do you carry in your pack?” So, before proceeding — let’s take a look.
A tent, (my home for the next 64 days). Sleeping bag and blow-up pillow; clothing for hot weather plus additional warm clothing for the mountains including underwear, socks, singlets, etc. raincoat and rain trousers, towel and washing gear. Everything for preparation of food, such as camping stove, liquid fuel, cooking pots, as well as basic food for at least two days, with plates and cutlery to suit. Then a mixture of items such as: water bottle, first aid kit, fly repellant, sun screen lotion, torch, note book, small radio, a book to read, plus a number of minor items.
The story that follows tells some of my thoughts, feelings and observations, during the walk back to Sydney. Initially despair and doubt — then decision to carry on — and finally arriving, 64 days later at Sydney — Royal National Park, with sore feet and muscles, but rewarded by the memory of many inspiring events.
February 25, Sunday — Start of the walk
My son stopped his car outside Melbourne. “Here you are and good luck”. My walk to Sydney was to start. For some time to come, I and nature will share intimate experiences. What will they be? Unpredictable for sure only time will tell. Like getting married, for better or for worse.
February 26, Monday
The heat wave — the humidity, the weight of the pack, make me doubt. Will I make it? Did I make a wrong decision? With all this sweat, only 50 ~km so far. Difficult to even imagine the distance and the difficulties, all the way to Sydney.
February 27, Tuesday — Flowerdale
Last night in the forest was different. Everything dripping wet, tall trees shedding condensation — had me fooled all night it was rain. But rain with a difference. Big, Big drops — like blobs. Could count each one as they broke against the tent.
Morning hid the trees in fog. Morning became noon, before I was sure it really was a new day.
February 28, Wednesday — Yea
Away from the humidity and heat wave, I drop my pack on the floor, in a typical country store.
Storekeeper: “And where are you off to?”
Me: “Walking to Sydney.”
Storekeeper with disbelieving stare:
“Not with that pack.”
By now I think he is right…
March 1 — Yark Area
Blisters — big ones, small ones, how could one get so many blisters? Must be the humidity and the sweat keeping everything wet. Skin turns pale and peels off. Fresh skin red and sore is what remains.
Laying exhausted in my tent I get cramp in my legs. Feels like my muscle tendons would snap. I have never experienced this before. Guess it’s due to heat and continuous exertion.
March 2
Takes longer to get started. Each rest prolongs the agony of getting going. Dull pain in muscles. Sharp pain in feet. What else can be done to blisters — but more band aids? Found out what caused my cramp. Not enough salt in my food.
March 3
My body is objecting. “Make pack lighter or no walk” The last “good to have, but not absolutely necessary items” are packed in a box and sent home.
March 4
I remember someone telling me “No matter how much you prepare, you must allow at least a week to settle in”. The thought gives me hope, let’s give it some more time and then — rethink.
March 5 — Mansfield area
Not always easy to find a camping site. Last night a small water hole, not far from the road, was the choice.
Put up my tent on the only flat ground — on the access path to the water. Darkness came with agitated sounds — noises from stamping, hissing creatures. Was it wild pigs, was it wombats, snakes, rabbits, kangaroos? I just listened, could hear my heart beating until too tired and fell asleep.
Lesson: Be careful with access to water holes they can be congested.
March 6 — Tolmie
Lo and behold — a ‘settling in process’ is in progress but not yet complete.
Many band-aids have fallen off, and some not replaced. But
Thinking, deciding — “Keep on, give it a go”
March 7 — Whitfield Area
Inspired by the beauty of nature, I feel light and happy. Could nearly fly with pack and all. In my mind a thought is born — it must be through us, the Maker appreciates His work. “How else”?
March 8 — Cheshunt
It can only happen in the movies, you will say, but here it was for real. During the heat of the day a car came past and pulled off the road in front of me. A man stepped out with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. There stood my friend I hadn’t seen for many years. In the shade we enjoyed the wine, talked about old times, new times, until it was time to part.
March 9 — Dandongadale
Walking on a winding forest road, I hear a rumble — then the road trembles. A log truck is approaching in a cloud of dust. Majestic — awesome, with noise and power. For a while nothing can be seen but dust, until settled — then shapes of grass, bushes, ghostly trees appear — all in grey. My eyes are getting gritty. Feels as if they need windscreen wipers.
March 11 — Mt Buffalo District
Glorious country all around me. As I walk I enjoy the smells of hay, eucalyptus, pines, and even cattle dung. Suddenly a sweet fragrance, as if a lady passed by. I turn my head, but no one there. Did I expect a miracle in the heat, or was it just old habit?
March 12 — Myrtleford
My hat — nothing fancy, just what is common in the bush. I soak the hat in water, put it on to soak my head. How practical this invention to keep you cool in the heat.
March 17 — Tallangatta
This morning the duck shooting started with a blasting from at least 100 guns… It sounded as if a banana republic changed government — lots of shooting accompanied by squeaking ducks. This morning came with death to at least a thousand ducks — just in this Tallangatta area — 10 birds per day being the quota for each hunter. waking up in my tent at the shore of Lake Hume — I could sense the agony of terrified ducks and other birds. This morning — no happy singing or chatter in the trees.
Later this day — walking to a creek to fill my water bottle, at a distance I could see many heaps of feathers on the bank of the creek. Poking around — 10 duck heads — 20 feet plus wings and feathers in each heap; the only things left of some beautiful ducks.
Living so close to nature during my walk — the sight was saddening — it brought tears to my eyes.
March 18 — Koetong
Last night I slept in a pine forest. The hissing sound of the wind through the trees was different to the sound in a typical native forest. Before falling asleep I listened longer than usual to the sounds outside my tent. A harmony is created by the sounds in a forest — I felt at home and at peace, but any discord immediately drew my attention.
March 20 — Corryong
Someone once complained “We have lost our pioneering spirit”. If by a pioneering spirit we mean the attitude “Let’s give it a go” even if the odds are against us — then I have good news.
My impression from many isolated country areas. “Pioneers are still around”. People living in caravans, in tents, or huts, whilst building a home and establishing their farm. But, in these isolated areas, how strong must love be to keep young couples together.
March 22
Here I am, at the halfway mark, crossing the bridge over river Murray, the border between Victoria and New South Wales. This calls for celebration; no champagne, so the river water will do. Sitting down to rest and reflect on the occasion.
No gates, no guards, no requests for passport at this border. How lucky we are in this country. Free to travel, without restrictions, we just take it too much for granted and never really give it a thought, nor the appreciation it deserves.
March 23 Khancoban — Snowy Mountain Area
Water — how little we city people understand the importance of water.
For some of us, thirst is made only for beer or coca-cola. But here water is required, and no pubs, no shops at hand. In this drought stricken area, no running creeks, no clean water holes, just an occasional mud hole for animals their life dependent upon it.
How was I to get water? I took some risks and learnt the lessons.
My problem was the distance between towns or major rivers sometimes the distance was too long to carry water, enough to quench my thirst.
First my lips dried out — then my tongue and throat difficult to swallow, to talk, until I completely lost my voice.
Then minor miracles came to the rescue. A farm with water tanks, or a truck with a water bag, or a water hole, clean enough to share with some animals.
Have you ever been thirsty — really thirsty for some time? Your body dries up like a wettex left in the sun. Imagine that you come to a river. You jump flat in the water — to feel it all around you — you drink and drink — your body absorbs water from the inside and from outside. After drinking as much as you can, you still feel thirsty it takes a while for each cell in the body to absorb all the water they needs.
Coming closer to the Snowy Mountains, farmers were praying for rain. “Hold it”, I said, “wait until I get over the mountains”. I might get washed away and the rain in the mountains is cold.
March 26 — Thredbo Area
Once over the Snowy Mountains the rain came. No more water shortage but now different problems.
My timetable required me to walk every day — rain or shine. No chance of getting anything dried. The pack got heavier, filled with wet clothing, sleeping bag and tent. putting up the tent in the rain had to be fast to avoid leaches.
Once inside the tent with the zipper drawn, the leaches marched up and down on the outside — looking for somewhere to get in. I had the opportunity to study their behaviour — perfectly adapted to detect my presence, even from a distance.
March 27 — Jindabyne
How unpredictable the weather. Lake Jindabyne was calm and beautiful. I put up my tent on it’s sloping shore to enjoy the sunset and the reflections from the lake. Night and darkness came with a warning. Lightning crossed the sky. Then a gust of wind stirred the lake. Not long thereafter a storm hit the lake, the shore and my tent. Nothing around to brake the fury of the storm. Pegs gave away and collapsed the tent.
Nowhere to escape — there I was, inside the flapping tent afraid to be blown away. I rolled and wrapped the tent around me which by now started to fill with water. The night became a battle against the wind, the rain and the cold with everything thoroughly wet.
Just before dawn, a sudden stillness. A few stars could be seen. Then the sun came up so bright as if apologising for the hardship during the night.
March 29 Berridale
Going to sleep at sunset meant waking up before sunrise. That gave me time to listen to the moods and feelings of birds and creatures waking up in the forest. Magpies — my favourite birds were always the first to sing. Then the Kookaburras and much later all the rest.
April 2 — Brown Mountains — East of Nimmitabel
We pay for our mistakes. To lighten my pack I got rid of my warm clothing in Cooma. That was my mistake. On the way to the coast in the forest, on top of the Brown Mountain, it was raining and cold. No use searching for a dry camping spot. At times like this I was glad that my tent had a waterproof floor. Once inside the tent — with all clothing wet and the sleeping bag moist and feeling slimy, how was I to get warm? Shivering I wrapped myself in the sleeping bag and tired from a long day’s walk, I fell asleep. Half dry in the morning I was surprised at the warmth retained by my bag. During many days of rain I was to experience many similar nights.
How come I did not get sick, -no flu, -not even a common cold.
April 4 — Bega District
I do make some people happy — it works like this. When I explain to strangers about my walk — there is a moment of silence. They view me up and down.
“Walking to Sydney — and with that Pack, we always thought that driving from Melbourne to Sydney is far enough — but walking — thank God it’s not us.” Their faces light up — happy in the thought that they don’t have to do it, and perhaps realising their life is not that hard after all.
April 6 — Cobargo Area
On the shore of a beautiful river I put up my tent. It was sunset when I was ready. Sat inside the tent, facing the entry making notes in my diary. Suddenly I heard scratching noises behind my back — I turned my head — and saw the tent moving. Then a dingo came to the front stopped and motionless we stared at each other. Thoughts of Ayers Rock flashed through my mind. This dingo — just a bundle of muscles — a golden, beautiful creature to watch. In his face and expression I could read his thoughts. “Don’t blame me — I did not do anything” then he turned away and half ran up the bank.
Now a second dingo came from behind the tent and stopped in front of me. I know, one dingo is one thing, but two are unpredictable. He stared at me from only two arm lengths away and I stared back without a move. Whilst looking at his mate a few meters away, I could understand his thoughts. “Why run away — what about the food we could smell in the tent — shouldn’t we go and get it?” When no answer from his mate, he decided to follow. I sat still, watching until they disappeared over the bank. I got out from the tent, selected a strong stick and put my smelly sandwiches in my pack.
Opened the blade on my swiss pen knife, determined to fight off any intruder. This night — not much sleep — the lightest of noise called for attention and disturbed by my thoughts without answers. The two dingoes — could they have been farm dogs? But no farms around — and they certainly looked like dingoes.
April 10 — Moruya Area
My pack — always too heavy, easy to throw on my back in the morning, but towards the end of the day, always a surprise — what a struggle to get it on my back.
Last night in my dream I made a discovery. I dug deep into my pack and there under all my stuff was a bag full of concrete. How did it get there? Could not figure it out. But with relief and great satisfaction I threw it away.
In the morning — the lingering dream satisfaction and expectation of a lighter pack soon evaporated — like the dew in the morning sun.
April 14 — Ulla Dulla
Someone asked — “Don’t you get lonely walking all by yourself?” The question surprised me because to be lonely had never occurred to me. Every day came with new and different experiences — no time to be lonely, and after a while my thoughts and nature itself became my company.
But nights were different. Imagination was intensified by darkness and by being alone. It took some time to feel at ease, with the sounds one hears in the stillness. — All alone in a dark forest.
April 17, Nowra
Radio, Television and the local newspapers did a good job to inform the locals about my walk. Many drivers stopped their car to have a chat and give a donation.
“You must be the person walking for the National Heart Foundation” “Good on you”.
Visited many country hospitals for a chat with staff and patients, and to gain support for the Heart Foundation.
My impressions from these visits.
Everyone troubled over hospital funding, but matrons, nurses and hospital staff, how kind and concerned for my safety and well-being. I was impressed by many of the hospitals — nice and inviting places. Forgive my occasional thoughts; “How good it would be to be sick just for a little while, to sleep in a real bed instead of in the tent on some hard rocky ground…”
April 21 — Wollongong
If I were a judge of the “DO THE RIGHT THING” competition, I would nominate Victoria as the winner. The roads, highways and byways are clean — even the approaches to country towns and the towns themselves. The same cannot be said about New South Wales, the lack of rest areas with bins conveniently located for motorists to use could be one of the problems.
DO THE RIGHT THING" has been a very successful campaign but more planning and care is required in New South Wales.
April 27 — Coledale
My walk is soon coming to an end. My legs and shoulder muscles are aching but with admiration I think of my body. What a marvellous design, to accept so much abuse. Not a job by an apprentice.
All credit to our Maker. A professional engineer I can’t but wonder — “What was the design specification?”
During my walk, many cars and trucks stopped to offer me a lift. I felt guilty to decline, but my pledge was to walk all the way, any transport to be accepted only in an emergency.
It took some explaining, and some found it hard to believe that I really could refuse their offer.
April 29 — Royal National Park
This glorious Sunday was to be the last day of my walk. at Audley friends had gathered for a welcome. My thoughts went back to the many good people I met along the way. They turned up just at the right time with water, a cup of tea, offer of shelter etc. or just a friendly chat with encouragement appropriate at the time.
How much lighter even my pack became — just by a few encouraging words.
My thanks to you all — I like to think of you as “angels in disguise”
Carl Sarelius
8/69 Chapel Str
Rockdale, NSW 2216
Tel 02-5992703